The Balance
by Darion Beldar
Summary: Ten years after the trilogy, the children of the Club members of Crowhaven Road are at risk. But from who? And how can they save them?
1. Prolouge

The Secret Circle: The Balance

"A child without courage is like a night without stars."

--Buddist Proverb

********************

Outside the cozy house, in the fiercely thrashing New Salem rain that came every monsoon season, lightning flashed.

Following close behind it, thunder struck.

The sound startled awake the gentle tawny-haired woman asleep in the curving sleigh bed. Even through the heavy padding of the comforters, it was visible that she was five months pregnant. Her flannel nightgown rustled, and her husband stirred beside her. As if in answer to the commotion, the child in her womb quickened.

She grabbed the tiger's eye by her bed--it was a light, golden color that reminded her of the deepest highlights in her own hair. As she grasped it, she was settled by soothing warmth that made her feel less alone. Reaching for the pouch on the silken cord hidden inside her night table, she slipped the stone in and put the pouch over her neck. Close to her heart, it made her feel a little better. She fluffed her pillow and prepared to settle down back to sleep.

That was when she felt the dark tendrils, almost caressing her head. Once again came the feeling of being totally, frighteningly, alone. She remembered back to when Black John, her _father_, had attempted to scare and entice them into joining a coven under him. Just sixteen, she and her coven members had stood against him, calling on the powers of nature to destroy him. But now, she wasn't alone. She was here, with her friends and husband, safe and protected on number 9 Crowhaven road. But the feeling disturbed her. She squeezed the pouch around her neck.

__

Air and Sea, keep harm from me...

Even though the Air and Sea were working themselves into a frenzy outside, she felt them listen and respond. A wave of calm, gentle caring swept over her that was Water's energy, and whisper of sweet dreams blowing from Air. She closed her eyes and visualized a glowing wall of white around her house, Air and Water backing it up, and almost immediately, the black tendrils disappeared slinking away like a squid soundly thrashed. She relaxed in the glowing warmth. If she felt the tendrils again, she would wake Adam up and tell him. But right now, there was no cause for worry. It might be nothing, anyway, and she could tell Diana in the morning. She lay back down, and felt the baby flutter, as if saying, "Hey mom, what's wrong?" In answer, she patted her stomach gently.

"Go to sleep, little one. We'll protect you."

A sleepy voice spoke up beside her. "Talking to him already?" he said, in a tone laced with sweet amusement.

"It makes me feel better. Especially in storms like this."

Adam turned and patted her stomach gently. "There, there, little guy. Time for bed now, Daddy's tired."

"You didn't have to wake up."

"I care about you. I couldn't help it." Cassie turned over on her side and kissed him softly.

"I love you so much." She said.

"I love you, too." Adam said. He smiled that almost-rakish grin of his, and fell asleep again. Sincerely comforted, Cassie dropped off as well.


	2. Chapter One

In the months that followed, Cassie had to wonder exactly when her feet had begun to turn into pillars of granite. Walking took so much effort that she wondered if she should start reducing the lead content in her diet. She was sitting in the living room one day, debating if she had the strength to prop her feet up, when a white-blond head, colored of sunlight and moonlight, poked itself in through the door.

"Hello, little sister. How are you feeling today?" Diana asked, too cheerfully.

"Perfectly fine," Cassie fibbed through her teeth. "What happened to the car?" 

Normally, Cassie could hear the grumbling of the car as Diana was dropped off. But today, there was nothing. Just the footfalls on the porch and door clicking as Diana let herself in.

"Chris is off on a business trip. But see, I'm still here."

"Oh, really?" Her interest piqued, Cassie couldn't bear questioning her big sister. "Why this time?"

"One of his bands is having a little publicity problem." Diana said shortly. Cassie arched her eyebrows. "Caught in bed with a minor." Diana added softly. Cassie whistled.

"It's rather vital that he goes there to fix it." Diana said. "Press releases and all that. He says he can have it all wrapped up in a week. But the house still feels a little lonely with him gone." Cassie touched her friend's arm sympathetically.

"If it makes you feel better, you know you can always come here." Cassie said.

"Thanks. I might even take you up on it, tonight." They sat around, wondering what to say next. Cassie stared wistfully at her garden, being drenched by the quiet rainstorm. The pale lavender roses that Cassie loved were gently tossed back and forth. They were almost blue, and Adam had bought the bush for their third anniversary.

"Soo...how have things been going with the laurel leaves?"

"Oh. That's going great! No matter what I put in there...there seems to be a symbiotic relationship. The Yin stones are infused with energy by the growing plants, especially if it's put in the moonlight. Plants always did operate on sort of the nether side, you know. The dark reaction cycle, the whole connection with the earth. But the more Yang-type stones, like the citrine and carnelian, just came out sort of... flat."

"I wonder what we could do to boost those?"

"Well, the sunlight, of course, but that goes slowly. I was wondering if we just put them in a circle of damp sand."

"Hmmm...I seem to remember that as being for purification." Cassie said, looking at Diana oddly.

"Well, yes, but a variation on it. I think the sand grounds the crystal and keeps it to it's purpose, so it can interact with the earth and purify itself. Re-energizing...maybe I could put a circle of quartz stones around it. Would that help, or burn it out?"

"Probably depends on the size of the crystal and the duration of time. Melanie would know."

"Yeah, she would. " Diana said. A silence wedged into the conversation.

"I want to go do something today." Cassie said. "There's nothing on TV in the morning, and we can't go walking on the beach. Let's go to the movies."

"What about your feet?" Diana asked.

"Eh. It doesn't take much work to push a gas pedal. I'll live." Cassie remarked. "But if you're feeling so charitable, you can go call Laurel and Melanie. I tell you what. Half and half--You get the phone and I'll call them."

"Sounds good. Laurel will be glad for something to do, anyway. Nick has Ashley for the winter, this year."

"Oh? Why'd they change it?"

"Nick gets a company trip to Switzerland. Wants to take her skiing for Christmas vacation."

"They need to do more things together. It's not good to make Ashley split up over the holidays."

"Oh, he's bringing her back in time for Winter Solstice. Last I heard, anyway."

"I wonder why she didn't tell me about it?"

"She'd been moping. It'll be good for her to come with us. Besides, it isn't really a circle matter."

"Yeah, I suppose." Circle matter or not, being left out stung, Cassie thought. Hearing Cassie's dejected tone, Diana got up to get the phone.

Cassie thought Diana might not have been telling the whole story. It probably made Laurel feel a little lonely to see Cassie pregnant, and Diana wouldn't comment on that matter, seeing as Cassie's husband was Diana's old sweetheart. Cassie sighed. Once their baby was born, hopefully all of this tension would ease up. But she didn't like her coven split up over past aches. She would have to clear the air with Laurel later. As for the Diana issue--well, Cassie couldn't bear to bring up the old memories to Diana. It might hurt her.

********************

Laurel was staring at a photo of Ashley when he phone rang. Gently putting the photo down, she rose to answer it.

"Cassie? Hi. How are you feeling? That's good." She said. "The movies? Which one? Oh, yeah, I've wanted to see that one too. Just let me get my stuff together and I'll be right over." There was a pause while Laurel debated if she should actually ask what was on her mind. "Hey, Cass, is Diana over there? Would you mind if I talked to her for a minute?"

There was a pause as the phone was passed over. Laurel knew what she had said might have hurt Cassie a little, but Laurel couldn't bear to talk about this to anyone but Diana. Cassie might think she was jealous, or worse, and Laurel knew it wasn't that. Besides, Diana was a coven leader, too. She might know better how to tell Cassie. Okay, so that wasn't the truth, but it had justified her actions.

"Di? Listen, I felt something last night. I didn't want to worry Cassie, was all. No, I'm sure she can take it. She's a big girl. But anyway, it felt...dark. Like...a charcoal gray, compared to Black John, but it wasn't anything healthy. It made me feel...alone."

"Well, I don't know." Diana was saying. "I felt like that too, but Chris told me he was going off today, so that might have been it." Her voice was tinged with a just a little exasperation, which was very rare in Diana. Laurel resolved to ponder over it later. Chris going away?

"It wasn't anything like that, Diana. Ashley has been gone for a month now, I'm over it. I've just been wondering what to do about this thing, and I didn't want to worry Cassie, not in her condition. I figured you could tell her better than I could."

Diana smelt a lie. "Yeah, well, what should I say?"

"Ask if she feels any weird influences. Or felt. Maybe she just didn't think it was important enough to talk about." Diana sighed. Laurel decided not to leave her friends any decision time, as she already felt like a jerk with a capital 'J'.

"I'll be over there in a few minutes." She said. "Bye." Hanging up the phone, Laurel took one last look at Ashley's picture and grabbed her coat.

********************

"What was that about?" Cassie asked. Diana felt uncomfortable. Cassie eyed her.

"You know, if you two would rather not talk about it, it's okay. Really. I just feel a little left out, that's all." She said. Then she changed her mind.

"Fuck it. Diana, what is going on? If you guys hate me, or are jealous or lonely or whatever, then tell me, but don't make me feel like a snake when I haven't done anything wrong." Diana's eyes widened and all her body language spoke with denial.

"No, Cassie. Laurel just felt some weird force that she was worried about, is all. She wanted to know if I had felt it, too."

A half-awake memory glistened in Cassie's mind. Her face changed. "What kind of weird force?"

"See, she thought you might have been worried. Feeling alone, she said."

Cassie paused to think about it. "I felt something like that. It wasn't very strong, though. The Tiger's Eye chased it away at first, and then it came back, and then I called on Air and Water and it left."

"I felt something like it last night, but I wasn't sure if it was me or what, because Chris told me only last night he had to leave. This thing came up pretty suddenly."

"Oh, Diana, I didn't really know. I'm sorry."

"Don't be sorry...you've just seemed so edgy for the last couple months. It's really no surprise Laurel didn't want to talk about it to you."

"I thought it was...other reasons." Cassie said. She half-heartedly gestured towards her protruding stomach.

"And did you think that was why I was weird, too?" Diana asked. "I know the way your mind works, Cassie. Always trying to take care of me. C'mon, admit it, you did think so."

"Well..." A pause. "Yeah." She said.

"Cassie, I'm happy for you and Adam. I swear I am. If we can't discuss things like this without being afraid, we're all doomed before we start, if this force is anything serious to worry about."

Cassie shifted, happy to be on a subject she knew something about again. "Well, if all three of us felt it, then it shows it isn't limited, anyway. One pregnant woman, one with no kids, and one with an older child. Except for the fact that so far it has been all women. Do you think this is affecting all of the Circle?"

"See now, if it hadn't been so rainy, we'd have had more meetings and knew about this when it started." Diana shivered with an inner chill. "I wonder what's causing it. But we do need to call the others and find out. Let's have a meeting. Next week, maybe. We'll see if this thing repeats itself. "

"Right." Cassie said. Diana would take care of everything. But she felt guilty relying on Diana right now. After all, Laurel and Diana had felt his thing only last night. She had felt it two months before. So, wasn't it her duty to figure out its' source, somehow? Well, she'd cross that bridge when she came to it--if the force made its' presence known again. Right now, she settled down with the phone to call Melanie.

********************

Diana watched the blinking lights high in the sky. Red, white, yellow. White, yellow red. Flash, blink, blink. Flash, blink. A plane, off on it's little sojourn to wherever. Likely, she reflected, to Europe. The planes that went to Canada curved over the Midwest. No, the only planes whose flight path took them so high over this territory were the ones who went to England, France, or Spain.

But why was she thinking of that, of traveling? It would only make her feel worse, when Chris was so far away. Diana snorted softly. Publicity problem. It was the only time she had lied to her 'little sister'.

"I'm going away for a week," Chris had announced.

"Where?" Diana had enquired. She had just come out of the shower, combing her hair.

"I don't know. California, maybe. Far away."

This had come as more than a bit of a shock. They had had...problems, yes, like any marriage had problems. Like Nick and Laurel's marriage had problems. But Diana had never considered separation. Obviously, Chris was considering it, and without her input on the matter. Suddenly, Diana felt devastatingly lonely. Like a black blanket had dropped over her head. Like a voice in her ear: You're all alone. Nobody cares anymore. Alone, alone, alone, alone...

"Are things that bad?" she had asked. "Between us?" Chris had sighed and sunk down on the bed.

"Oh, Di." He moaned, as he covered his face. "I don't know. I need to...to get out. You can understand that, can't you?" Diana had bit her lip and nodded.

"Maybe, Chris," she had said, "you're just not cut out for married life." A serious look had crossed Chris's face. When he had looked up at her again, his tilted green-blue eyes were bright and sad.

"Maybe that's it, Diana. But right now, I've just got to leave. Tell everyone I went on a business trip or something. I'll be back, I promise." He got up, and started packing again.

"Right." Diana said. "Chris." She said. He tilted his head to show he was listening, but didn't look at her. "No matter what happens, I love you." At that, Chris got up.

"Thank you, Diana." He said. "You don't know how much that means, right now."

And so, he had left. Going off in the middle of the night, leaving Diana to make up some lie about a publicity problem. And then, when nothing about this problem hit the newspapers, she would be forced to make up more lies, to cover it up. Say, that was just Chris doing his job. Isn't he good? And the lies would get thicker and thicker. There were things she couldn't reveal to the others, just like there were things Cassie couldn't reveal to her. Even sisters, Diana reflected, had to have secrets.

She got up and ran a hand over the green paneling that lined the kitchen, tracing the delicate painted oak leaves with her fingernails. Cassie had painted those, and the blue unicorns in the nursery that was being built. To make it her own. Diana had never known Cassie could do such art with a brush in her hand. The memories of the times she had spent in this house invaded her mind. How many times had she sat in this living room, just talking with Adam, or looking at each other for hours? Looking out that window, seeing that view? She had never been able to get enough of his face. Those deep, smoky, blue-gray eyes. Like Cassie's, actually. They even had the same eyes. Diana choked back a bitter laugh.

What would it have been like if Cassie had never come to New Salem? Would Kori have completed the circle? Would they have been able to defeat Black John? Diana would be married to Adam now, certainly. Would it have been a good marriage? Would the child she carried now be Adam's instead of Chris's? Was it better this way? She would never know.

Going back to the couch, she arranged her blankets for the night. Had to sleep on her back, now. A warning stab of pain from stomach to back bone refused to let her roll over. And only two months along. Well, she would tell Chris when he got back. She had been waiting for the right time.

What if she had told him before he left? He would have stayed here, miserable during the whole thing. No, Diana knew it was better she had not told him. He had needed to get away. Which meant that she couldn't tell anyone else until Chris got back. He was her husband, of course. Still legally, through the tie that binds. He deserved to know before the others.

Oh, Cassie...Diana thought, as she lay down for the night. I wish I could tell you.

********************

"Mom?" Cassie whispered, tapping gently on the door not with her knuckles, but lightly, with the pads of her fingers. She couldn't see her mother from the darkness of the hall, but some mother-daughter connection that had been endlessly refined during their lives let her know that her mother was awake and assenting to the visit. She went in and sat down on the bed, and her mother closed her book and put it on the night-table.

Her mother had changed. Her black eyes had somehow gotten softer, deeper. The black hair was streaked with gray, and the pale face was more translucent, highlighted here and there with wrinkles. They had always taken care of each other, her and her mom. Cassie loved Adam now, loved him so much that it hurt, but it hadn't taken the depth of tenderness and feeling she had for her mother. Almost like her mother was a wiser younger sister.

"What is it, dear?" Her mother leaned over and tucked away a strand of hair that had limped across her daughter's face, and Cassie savored the feather-light touch of her mother's hand.

"Well..." Cassie was unsure of how to broach this particular subject, involving what it did. But what has Diana said? 'If we can't discuss things like this without being afraid, we're all doomed before we start...'

"Mom, did ever have odd feelings, when you were having me?"

Her mother raised her eyebrows and gazed at her skeptically. "The pregnancy was normal, if that's what you mean. But I don't think it is." Cassie shook her head. Her mother patted the space n the bed beside her, and her daughter walked around to sit there.

"It's long past time we talked about this." Her mother said. "I'm just a little unsure of how to begin." Her mother paused, took a sip out of the glass of water that stood by her bedside. "First, though, what sort of feelings do you mean by 'odd'?"

"It's just...this force, that we were all talking about. A kind of devastating loneliness, black and dark and..." Memory glimmered. "and so _deep_. As if there could never be an end to this woman's sorrow. It...wrapped around me. At first, it didn't feel natural, but then it became natural. As if loneliness and pain had been all I had known my whole life." Cassie shuddered. "Do you know anything about that?"

Alexandra bit her lip. "You must understand, first, that when I was younger everyone had walked on eggshells around me my whole life. When I fell in love with John, it was like I was finally good for something. I wasn't a burden, something that the others had to put up with and take care of. I wasn't independent, but I felt like I had found my place, and it was beside him. Like it had always been beside him, with him leading me and teaching me. Can you see that?"

Cassie nodded. She had felt like that when first in New Salem--the other kids had been scared of the ones on Crowhaven Road, taken pains to avoid her. And Faye must have felt like that, even in the Circle. Like nobody wanted her, like she was some burden. So she went to him...

"Sometimes I felt lonely. He wasn't a kind man. He was driven, obsessed by the coven. He loved each of us dearly, I think, or it seemed as if he did. As the children were born, he was always out seeing them and their families. I would go with him and watch them all lavish affection over them, and everyone would smile kindly at me and ask how I was doing and feeling. It was like I never had to worry about anything ever again, not health or wealth or well-being, not even about my friends, because John was there, and had always been there." Her mother paused, thinking. "So I suppose, had I stopped to think about it, I would have felt that sort of loneliness. But I didn't stop to think about it. I was flying so high, I never stopped to touch the ground."

"What about the others? I mean, I know Black John arranged the marriages. Did you....did any of the others feel like you?"

"I don't know if any of them felt exactly as I did. Probably not. They were either in love, or not, with their husbands and wives. They had a measure of private feelings, where as mine were spread out among so many. And, to most people, true love is something that comes once in their lifetime, if that. Whether they were in love or not, at least they knew. I didn't have the benefit of that, since there were so many people who took care of me and who I loved and admired. You might say I was...confused. But that's not how I felt. I felt like was really, truly in love, the love everyone said to wait for, for the first time." Cassie nodded.

"And then, of course, we found out. The babies were four, five months old. They were the sweetest children, but the things they could do..." The fear flickered in the back of her mother's eyes. "That much power in the hands of a child. It was when we realized what John had been doing, splitting us up and pairing us together. We had just been too blind to see it. They had all been flying with love for this man, like I was. But like I said, it was different for all of them." Alexandra swallowed, and that old fear came back in her eyes, the fear that Cassie had only seen determination conquer a few times in her life.

"But I didn't feel guilty. I felt lonely and stupid and terrified. I was scared that any minute he would come...that this thing out of nightmares would chase me to the ends of the earth."

Cassie noticed her mother was shaking, the hands shivering like tissue paper. She took her hands into her own, squeezed them.

"And then they burned him." Cassie said, with a note of finality, of closure.

"Yes. I didn't stay. I left for California that very afternoon. They tried to tell me...but I couldn't do it. To look on the face of the man I had loved and kill him, in cold blood--it was too much for me. I did the only thing I thought I could. I left."

"I understand, mom. You had to. You were scared."

"Yes." Her mother said. "And I had you to think about. I didn't know if he would want you, what he might do to find you...so I went as far away as I could. I did what I thought was best. My mother, your grandmother--she wrote me, pleading me to come back, that they needed people to rebuild, to remember, but after a while I just threw her letters away. I made a new life."

"I know." Cassie said. She looked down at her stomach. "He's not even born yet, and already I feel like I would do anything for him."

"Yes." Her mother said softly. "You can't get away from it. They make you love them."


	3. Chapter Two

Cassie stood in front of her mirror. Normally, of course she wasn't vain over her decision of what to wear to Circle meetings, but this time was different. It was entirely different when you decided to give up your white leader shift in favor of modesty and traded it for a big, green, _tent_.

"I look like a _tree_," Cassie whined. Adam came up behind her, just now upstairs from packing the cooler with tea Cassie had ground and brewed all by herself. That was a good thing about staying at home all day, because Cassie got to play Diana and try making all of these weird sorts of teas. Right now she had mixed up a less potent version of the warming-tea that they had used on the beach birthday party so long ago, and a couple other mixtures for energy, since Cassie got tired easily now.

"I think you make a beautiful tree." Adam said. Cassie sighed. Herne, God of the forest. Of course, he would think a tree was beautiful. Cassie turned and ran her stray hand through his wine-dark hair, staring at his entrancing, hypnotic, gray-blue eyes. Bacchus, the Greek god of wine and merriment, was also a god of the forest, Cassie reflected. Like Pan, fornicating all day under the trees with those illustrious river nymphs. And look where fornicating had gotten her?

_Stupid trees_, Cassie thought.

"I think _you_ are beautiful." Adam said, as if he had heard. Of course, he probably had.

"I think the problem is," Cassie said, "that I forget what thin looks like."

"I forget what thin looks like." Adam said, "but you are so attractive that I don't care."

Cassie sighed. "Do you really mean that?" she asked.

"You know I do." Adam said. And he kissed her.

It felt like his kisses always felt. Part like the universe was singing, part like the passion was a soaring riptide about to carry them away and never bring them back. _Air smother me, water cover my grave_, Cassie thought. How apt, that the dangers meant to tempt you away from betraying your oaths were the same things that made you want to. All part of the big circle, around and around. The salt of Adam's lips was so uniquely him, that again she kept feeling that flash of recognition. That silver cord, connecting them from heart to heart, drawing them closer and closer, holding them in a sparkling web that the universe had designed and brought into being. She felt like she was underwater, and the only way to get air was to suck every droplet of it from Adam's lips...

When the kiss broke, Cassie nearly fell into a pile at Adam's feet. He propped her up, and those gray-blue eyes were so happy, so joyous. They were the brightest blue she had ever seen them, filled with love and light, and somewhere in back, a deep smoldering passion, reflected in his dark red hair that seemed to burn like dying embers. Cassie didn't fully know it, but Adam felt the same way about her, about her light blue eyes like a summer's day, that looked so deep. As deep as an endless pool of water, a scrying crystal that had no core. And her hair, infinitely more beautiful than the sun playing on the greenest fields, was a perfect mix of sunlight and shadow, and played back and forth depending on how she moved her head. Her pale cheeks, rosy now. Her petal lips, looking like they had been perfectly kissed.

Cassie protested gently when Adam tried to break the hold, so they stood there, lapping in the golden afterglow. A few minutes later, he started to nudge her towards the door, and Cassie went readily.

As they left the house, Cassie looked up at the sky. A clear, shining moon smiled down on them. What an esbat this is going to be, Cassie thought. Happy moon, happy night, as she and Adam made their way down Crowhaven road and down the beach to where the circle had been drawn, but not yet cast.

Diana was there, still in her white-shift circle traditional robe, cut and sewn from one piece of fabric. She came over to give Cassie a hug, and it felt like a golden butterfly landing on Cassie's shoulder. They kissed each other on opposite cheeks.

"Merry meet, and merry part, and merry meet again, sister." Cassie said.

"Same to you, little sister." Diana said. Cassie smiled, and thought of their being adopted sisters, ever since Cassie had first moved to New Salem, ten years ago.

Cassie sighed. "It just doesn't seem the same without everyone here." She said, gesturing to the group, where Faye, Doug, Chris, and Nick used to be.

"No." Diana said. "But Faye says she'll be here for Yule. So we'll all see her again, and Doug, too."

"I hope so." Cassie said. She allowed herself to think, briefly, of the strong girl who had partly caused all of this trouble with Black John. But things had changed since then. She had joined their side in the end, and she was their sister witch, had always been part of their kinship. She was still a member of the circle, still a good friend to have, one who would convince you to do things you never pictured yourself doing, making yourself stronger and wiser in the end. Those honey-yellow, sometimes-playful, heavy lidded eyes. Faye had always worn black to the circle meetings, like a second skin that draped around her and blended in with her luxurious hair.

"I drew the circle," Diana said, "but I haven't sprinkled the water or anything yet. You do it, Cassie."

"All right." Cassie said, pleased at them holding the celebration until she had arrived.

When Cassie got to the circle, she entered through the northeastern door left in the sand, delicately, so as not to disturb the rising energies that were making the air inside vastly different from the air outside.

"Earth. Power of Earth, of the hearth and the spirit, we call you to our circle." Cassie could feel the power of the sand beneath her, quivering and shocked and energized. She traveled around clockwise, generously distributing from the small glass bowl of salt.

"Water. Power of Water, of care-giving and clairvoyance, we call you to our circle." Everyone felt the deep thrash of accordance from the waves just beyond, as they came up to flow around the boundary of their circle, not disturbing the grains of sand on the opposite side. Someone had evidently had a taste for drama tonight, and Cassie couldn't say that she blamed them: it was so obviously a night for magic.

"Air." Cassie called, and she took the lit incense from Diana and again walked clockwise around the circle. "Power of Air, of light and harmony, we call you to our circle." Cassie felt the whispering breeze that felt like spring and laughing children, as it settled gently around them.

"Fire." Cassie lit her own candle and moved around the circle lighting each member's candle as she came to it, which were then stuck in their own wax to light the area. Eight flickering candles set a gentle and ethereal glow to her face. "Power of Fire, of passion and war, we call you to our circle."

Diana went around the circle, pouring into personal goblets a bottle of red wine. Laurel went around and passed out white cakes shaped like crescent moons.

"So..." Cassie asked. "Any spells for the good of the order?"

Melanie raised her hand. Cassie cocked her eyebrow in mock acknowledgment. These Esbats were not only a time to cast spells with the whole power of the Circle behind them, they were also a gossip circle and a place to share news, if you wanted to be sure of a time when everyone who was able would show up.

"I would like to do a traveling spell." Melanie said.

"Thinking of taking off?" Cassie asked, simply curious.

"Soon." Melanie said. "A project I did research for has made a fantastic breakthrough, and I've been called to administrate the next stage. My own project is going nowhere fast right now, and the staff has a close eye on it, so I've really no excuse not to go."

"Oh?" Diana asked. "And where have you been called to administrate?"

"Oh, nowhere special." Melanie said. "England." She dismissed it with a wave of her hand, but her eyes were smiling. "I'll be back by Yule."

"Have fun, Melanie." Cassie said. "We're all jealous."

"Of course." Melanie said. "I'll send postcards."

Cassie looked at the moon, shining down on them from above. "A safety spell?" she asked Melanie. Melanie nodded.

"I've never been on a plane before." She said.

"Right." Cassie said. "It's not that bad. Cramped," because she remembered well enough from her honeymoon. She took the black-handled knife from where it had been sitting on the sand, and pointed it up at the moon shining in the sky.

"Give safe passage over water." Diana said, with a gleam of inspiration in her eyes.

"Give safe travel over land." Cassie continued.

"From one horizon to the other." Diana said, almost as if it were an afterthought.

"From closest shore to farthest sand." Adam finished, and flashed a content smile in her direction. Cassie felt the tug of a responding chord in her heart. She took the whole spell and repeated it once, faster, calling on the Powers. Then, driven by some strange compulsion she didn't really understand, she cut a door in the circle. The strange compulsion called her out of the circle, while the others watched. At the water's edge, she saw something gleaming. She picked it up, washed it in the tides, and took it back to the circle. Quickly purifying it with the flame, drops of water, passing it over the incense, and sprinkling sand on it, she gave to Melanie an abalone shell, so covered with layers of the shiny substance that the original outer form was barely visible. Melanie met Cassie's eyes and acknowledged her thanks, pocketing the shell.

A still silence pervaded while Cassie debated asking for other suggestions.

"Anyone else?" Laurel asked. Her gentle eyes glinted. "Because if not, then we can go party."

"I think," Diana said, looking at Cassie with a secret glint in her eyes, "we should do a blessing on all of the couples of the circle."

"Diana..."Cassie started, part in exasperation and part in joy that Diana would do so selfless a thing. But she had learned that a long time ago, hadn't she? That Diana would do anything to take care of her, and that she herself would do anything to look after Diana. Sisters, by a stronger bond than birth. The words from her wedding vows came back to her, the only part of the original phrase she and Adam had decided to keep when they had written their own verses..._till death do us part_...

"What, Cassie?" Diana asked, looking part hurt and part confused. She really wants to do this, Cassie realized. Oh, well, it wouldn't hurt her and Adam to stand up in front of the circle.

"Fine." Cassie said. "But all the married couples means _all _the married couples. You and Chris, too, Diana."

"Oh, I don't think so." Diana said, withdrawing a little.

"Come on, big sister." Cassie said, with just a hint of desperation tainting her voice. "Please?"

Diana sighed and got up to join them. Cassie beckoned to Suzan and Sean. "And everybody send out to Faye, who so ungraciously has decided to spend her life in Boston, living in sin with Doug." The circle chuckled.

"Melanie?" Cassie asked. She handed her the traditional black handled knife that Diana had used to cast the circle. Melanie pointed it at all of the compass directions, up and down, and repeated it over and over, making up a chant, building up her energy and adding it to the energy of the circle and the Powers.

"Earth and Fire, Air and Water, bring life and luck unto your daughters. Bring strength and bravery to your sons, for their fight has just begun."

All of the members of the circle standing in the middle stared at Melanie with shocked eyes, but no one dared to stop her. Her eyes looked glassy, shielded over, as if some greater power was working through those arms that held the dagger. Cassie was reminded of a kamikaze pilot, putting his life into their one last mission. She gripped Adam's hand, hard.

"By sacred Well and sacred Hearth, care for them in loving arms, for something waits, just outside, the enemy, the darkest bride." Laurel said. Diana's eyes, that had been fixed on Melanie's face, swung to Laurel's eyes. They looked the same as Melanie's-glassy, unreachable. Cassie's other arm was grabbed by Diana.

"By power, by light, by passion and soul, let not the darkness take its toll. Shield them from the times to come, when love will flow and blood will run..." Laurel and Melanie said together. Cassie could almost see the web of darkness that the words were weaving, dripping with malice. A tale of terrors yet to be seen, Cassie thought wildly. Her fingers dug into Adam's arm, holding herself upright.

They look like opposites, Cassie realized. Laurel with her light brown hair, and Melanie's darker. Laurel's laughing brown eyes and Melanie's somber gray ones. Like they could blend into one another, or like something-dear God, like something was blending into them....suddenly, Cassie saw herself. The flash of recognition was new and unique each time it happened; that unique realization that she was in control here, she was in power, as a witch and the daughter of a witch. The realization that she could call on nature, on the universe that was one with her and loved her, to fight this unnatural evil.

"Power of Sun have I over thee!" Cassie cried. "Power of Moon have I over thee!" Cassie felt as if she were some druid priestess, commanding the spirits from the pillars of Stonehenge. That tall, that righteous, that defensive. She promptly forgot anything else existed, and reached inside her for the next words, that as the coven leader, she possessed. The elements strained to give them to her.

"Power of Stars have I over thee!" Diana said, reminding Cassie that Diana was still alive, after all. A bolt of blinding light came into being next to the vision in Cassie's mind, and it was Diana. Diana, queen of the witches, warrioress from the beginning of time, down through the ages, protectoress of her children. "Power of Planets have I other thee!"

"Power of Rains have I over thee! Power of Tides have I over thee!" Adam screamed through the searing wind that had risen up. The god Bacchus, wine-red hair rolling over his shoulders, laughing a laugh that sounded quite insane, for he was the god of the fanatical and impossible, standing there with his hands on his hips in sheer bravado. The rage in his eyes, though: that was all him.

"Power of Thunder have I over thee! Power of Lightning have I over thee!" Diana shouted, calling on their power through her bond as wife and kinswoman. The power sung around them, and Laurel's and Melanie's eyes glassy and shocked.

There was an uneven balance. The earth was charged, but the whole circle was not needed to make this beastie back down. The threat of the half-cocked gun would be enough. The power seemed almost as if it were re-gathering itself for a second blow, debating about whether to strike again or crawl away. An uneasy silence.

Then, like a trap had been sprung and now couldn't be reset, the power flowed out into nothing, like blood from an artery. It wasn't obliterated, like Black John had been. Cassie was sure of that. No, for today, the power was giving up. It would be back, she knew. Darkest of Brides, she would return. All at once, it was over. Laurel and Melanie stood for two seconds, like marionettes whose strings had been cut. Then they fainted into heaps on the sand.

********************

The remainder of the circle had gone to see Melanie off at the airport. Diana had laughed when Cassie wondered if the airport staff had ever seen so many good-looking people in one place before.

"They probably thought we were models flying off to a shoot." She said. Her eyes were shining as she pushed her hair back. Chris was lucky, Cassie thought. Diana was still the most beautiful person she had ever seen, and that included all of the worlds' supermodels.

Chris, Cassie thought. He had returned three days ago, and ever since, Cassie just hadn't been able to get the same amount of sleep at night. She had always felt...uncomfortable, when her big sister was in trouble somehow. She recalled the late-night phone call she had made a few days ago...unable to sleep, she had rung up Diana's house at about eleven. Even the phone ringing had sounded tense on the other line, like a gunshot in the silence. It had rung five times. When Diana had picked it up, her voice sounded swollen, like she had been crying.

"Cassie?" she had asked. Cassie, immediately getting the shakes, had hung up the phone without an answer.

Since then, Cassie had firmly locked herself off from Chris and Diana's relationship. It was not her problem, not in the slightest. She couldn't bother Diana about it. And anyway, if Diana needed Cassie, she'd say so. It was entirely not her business, shut up until you're called. But of course, she still worried.

Cassie remembered the print on Diana's wall as a teenager, the one of Diana, the queen of all the witches, with the stars and planets encircling her body. Now sitting in a place of honor in the living room where Chris and Diana lived. She was so graceful, so competent. So willing to give and give until one would think she had nothing left, because inside there was an insurmountable core of steel. She would always have herself left, and so everybody else came first. Even at her father's funeral, who had died early of a heart attack, she had looked perfectly sorrowful, but capable, competent, self-sufficient. Now, Diana almost looked as if she were about to crack. Those eyes were always unusually bright, now, that face flushed, that slim body tense and nervous. Cassie worried about her big sister, now.

Getting on to her eight month, Cassie realized it would soon be time to plan her delivery. Except, she wasn't quite sure what she wanted.

"Okay," said a slightly frazzled Diana, who was trying to help Cassie plan the details, "let's start with the basics. Hospital, or home?"

"Home." Cassie said definitively. "Except if something happens...maybe...I don't know."

"We could hire a midwife. I've know of some other people who have done that."

"But that doesn't feel quite as...safe, somehow."

"So, the hospital, then?"

"Well...hospitals seem to sanitary and so...imposing." Cassie insisted. Diana sighed.

"Well, Diana, I'm sorry, but I just don't know _what_ I want."

"You know," Laurel said, "In the mainland hospital, they have 'birthing rooms'. So they call them. They're supposed to be if you want a private experience, so it's a room where you can deliver, and they have the doctors and nurses and everything, but it's not so impersonal as, say, the normal delivery room."

Cassie sighed. "I guess. I just don't know." She said.

"No place is going to be that impersonal, Cassie. You _know_ that. Just because I wanted to deliver at home doesn't mean you have to. We'll still have everybody there, and all kinds of neat plants and gems...just see what we've built up." Laurel said.

"And everyone will be there?" Cassie asked. "You and Diana and...everybody?"

"Well, I'm betting Sean will turn chicken and run out at the last minute. But all of the girls, minus Faye, and Adam."

They've been planning this for awhile, Cassie realized. She felt comforted by that. It made obvious the point of fact that they had been able to put the past aside, that the slate really had been 'wiped clean', so many Novembers ago.

"What about Faye?" Cassie asked Diana. Faye was...strong, and Cassie would be glad to have her there during the birth. However, Faye lived down on the mainland, and only came back for the occasional major Sabbat. She seemed to have forgotten she had once lived here.

"Faye," Diana said tersely, twirling her hair, "says she'll be back at Yule. However, we only have her word on that, so..." Cassie sighed, and Diana grimaced. 

"I know." Diana said. "I call her once a week, and if she doesn't make good this time, I'm starting a barrage. Seven times a day, until she blocks us off the phone line, every single female in the circle will call and tell her how much they miss her. Until she gets the hint." Diana yawned and stretched. "This being only if she doesn't come at Yule, of course." Laurel clucked her tongue.

"And you don't even know if it's a girl or a boy yet?" Laurel asked, changing the subject. Cassie shook her head.

"I mean, " she amended, "we decided not to try to find out. But I have a feeling he's a boy. And Adam thinks I'm right, anyway. Either way, I wouldn't mind." Laurel smiled.

"Yep." She said. "Healthy and happy, that's it. And, a witch of course. He'll be very powerful."

"How did your parents take care of that? I mean, I don't suppose any of you know, but I wasn't raised here, and I certainly wasn't as...flamboyant as you all were." Cassie tried to explain.

"What?" Laurel asked. Her nose wrinkled.

"Well, I mean, like when Faye lit the curtains on fire. What did her parents _do_?"

"Get new curtains, I expect." Diana said solemnly. Then, unable to hold it any longer, they all burst into peals of laughter.

"God, another Faye. _That_ would certainly be interesting." Cassie said. "No, I take it back. It would be hell."

"Yes, well." Diana said. "I am her cousin, and indebted to defend her, but I must say she had a rather...interesting childhood."

"Those poor boys in New Salem Middle School." Laurel said regretfully. Cassie looked up, curious.

"Oh, that was when she began to...experiment. Like with…Jeremy, you know." Diana dismissed this with a flick of her nails, faking lightheartedness, but one could see the deep sincerity of sorrow in the emerald eyes. "Deborah followed suit, and Suzan was the last to jump in, if you could believe that."

"But not anymore." Cassie said, with a fake pompous air. "Now, we're all fine upstanding good witches."

"Yes." Diana echoed absently. "Good witches."

"So," Laurel said, with that brisk tone that meant she intended to get down to business, "roses?"

"Roses?" Cassie asked. "For a _birth_? I didn't think that much reflected emotion would be good for a baby. Lilies, maybe."

"Too female. With all the girls in there, we'll need some sort of male presence. Just to balance it out."

"_All_ flowers are female." Cassie said, slightly confused.

"Very wrong." Laurel said, smiling. "What about cacti? Or trees? In fact, most of the plants with the thick woody stems are male-oriented, which includes roses."

"Well," Cassie sniffed, "it's not as if we can bring bushes into the birthing room, now can we?"

"We've decided on a birthing room?" Diana asked, suddenly alert. Cassie shrugged.

"I guess..." Cassie said, readjusting things so she could lie back. Diana punched the sky.

"Victory! Next." She said.

"I think," Cassie said slowly, "getting back to flowers, that I like poppies."

"Poppies?" Diana asked.

"Poppies?" Laurel repeated. "As in, 'Wizard of Oz' poppies?"

"No, no." Cassie waved her hand. "Orange poppies."

"Orange poppies." Diana said thoughtfully. "Is orange really such a good color?"

"I don't know." Cassie said. "And I really don't care. But something in me wants orange. Lots of it. Even orange roses, if you can find them."

"There's a dark peach variety." Laurel said. "I'll try. And we can get orange sheets and things, if you want. But why this sudden attraction? Did you like orange as a kid?"

"What?" Cassie asked. She wrinkled her nose, at odds. "Oh, no. I don't...think I like it at all, really. But I can't get orange out of my head. For some reason, I want it in the room."

"Are you sure _you_ want the orange?" Diana asked, gesturing to Cassie's stomach. Cassie rubbed it protectively.

"I don't know." She said truthfully. "Do you like orange?" she asked. She tapped her stomach twice. Then, strangely, she felt a humming of power. It felt like the pulling back of the ocean water before a tsunami was evident. Almost like a balloon, swelling and getting ready to pop. The source was untraceable, but Cassie felt the vibratory hum in her bones.

Suddenly, inexplicably, Cassie _tasted_ an orange bursting in her mouth. It was the greatest taste in the world, better than ice cream or lobster tail. Very strange looks came over Laurel and Diana's faces, and then Diana got up and _ran_ to the kitchen, bringing back three oranges for distribution. Cassie practically grabbed one out of the air and devoured it quickly. As fast as the craving had come, it disappeared.

"Well." Diana said. "At least now we know who likes oranges."

"Yes, I suppose it's apparent." Laurel said. "Ashley used to like green, but she never did anything like _that_."

Cassie was nervous. "Do you really suppose it's him doing it?" she asked.

"Who else could it be?" Diana asked rationally. "So, now we know. I'll have a nephew with an intense affection for oranges." Cassie laughed.

"Yes." She said. "For a birthday present, you can get him an orange tree."


	4. Chapter Three

As the days ticked on, Cassie discovered she needed a constant supply of oranges in the house. Adam was beginning to look at her oddly. The kitchen _reeked_ of citrus. Diana made some orange-essence teas, and that helped a little, but it was like between-meal snacks when what you wanted was a banquet. 

There was orange _everywhere_. Ground up in potpourri bags, stewed into the soup and roasts each night at dinner. If she ate anything, it was an orange, or had orange in it. Without fail, she always drank orange juice.

"I am getting _so_ sick of this." Cassie complained one night, when Adam was cleaning up. "I _hate_ oranges now!" Adam chuckled.

"Well, it's only another month." He said. Cassie glared.

"This is _your _child, dear. I feel like chucking an orange at you."

"Well, it could be worse. What if it were carrots?"

Cassie shuddered. She _despised_ carrots, and he knew it. "Don't even say that, Adam. Don't you dare!"

"Just kidding. Smoke the peace pipe, huh?" he said.

"As long as it's not an orange." She replied. "Hey, that's neat. For once, I don't want an orange. I think he's asleep." She got up slowly and maneuvered over to the couch, arranging her swollen body on cushions. Adam came into the room and looked at her, and the strangest passion came over his face. He bent over and kissed her on the forehead.

"Thank you." He whispered. Cassie closed her eyes, savoring the moment.

"What for?" she asked.

"Putting up with all of this. For me." He said. "I love you for it."

"It's not just for you." She protested. "For me, too. And him." He nodded, a solemn half-grin on his face, his eyes shining.

"But." She added. "It might be just a little bit more for you." She kissed him lightly on the lips. He took her hand, laying on her stomach, and kissed her palm.

"Fair damsel." He said. "Evil be it upon me ever to lose you." And when he looked up, such love was shining from his blue-gray eyes that Cassie felt like she was sinking. Submerged, and held tight inside his eyes that seemed as if they would never let her go. At times like this, Cassie never remembered whether or not he kissed her.

********************

The first day Chris got back from his informal vacation was the day Diana decided to make the announcement. To do such, Diana had actually refused to let Cassie come with her when she learned the time Chris's plane would be coming in. Seeing Cassie's willing acknowledgement of Diana's superiority in the matter let Diana know, more than anything else, that she had known how bad the marriage had gotten, no matter what Diana had ended up telling her.

Diana's other excuse that was Chris wouldn't be too glad to see her, anyway, and she didn't want Cassie to see that, whatever she knew or didn't know.

Diana took a taxi there, just to make sure, even though to save face and gossip, the two had to arrive in New Salem in the same car. Diana had been preparing herself for a war on all fronts. Her makeup was exquisite, the dinner reservations were set, and she was wearing white. She figured, unethical as it was, it couldn't hurt to remind him of his small obligation to the coven.

Diana had to wonder what the rest of the circle would think of her at this moment. Pure little Diana, playing the seductress. But the truth was, she was simply pulling out all of the stops. If it was all or nothing, then he had better choose, and she wanted to show him both sides of that decision fully. It wouldn't be fair, she had decided, to make herself look less-than-perfect so he wouldn't feel as bad to lose her. It was the only right thing to do.

They had…well, not met, but merged? Diana was reminded of a phrase in some book whose title she had forgotten…when longing glances had turned to love. Or maybe when friendship had turned to longing glances. There had always been a sort of…potential, there. Diana had always been friendly with the Henderson brothers, though she had been far too innocent, and too distracted, to realize the sort of feelings in her blood when she and Chris were together.

It had been mere days before the leadership vote. One of those chilly overcast days in November, when the streets were thronged with dead leaves and sunlight only peeked through the thick gray clouds when it had a mind to. The weather didn't put her in a bad mood exactly—Diana was rarely in a bad mood about anything. But for some reason, days before her birthday, she felt…apprehensive. Chilly, in a way that went beneath surface temperatures.

Cassie had been so…strange, in those days. Later, of course, Diana had been told why, but she remember how she had felt before the whole situation had been cleared up to her: confused, upset, a little surprised. The story of feelings you get when a good friend, or someone you thought was such, yanks the rug out from under you. Diana felt like she was having a premonition of those feelings, and wondered where in the universe it could possibly be coming from. She had been sitting in her room, a thick Irish sweater on and Adam's lumber jacket wrapped around her, staring out the window. Looking at the set of prisms at the top of her window, actually: tinkling triangles of glass that without the sunlight held no life. She knew that later, fingers of afternoon sunshine might come and make a few small rainbows, all the more precious for their scarcity. But for now, it seemed like there was nothing to do but sit and absorb the miserable atmosphere. And then the phone had rung.

"Diana?" Came a familiar voice that she did not immediately recognize. She recognized the emotions in it though…strain and secrecy, desperation.

"Chris?" She guessed.

"Yeah. You gonna be there for a little while?"

Surprise, curiosity. "Yes…"

"Are you alone?" This bizarre question made Diana's eyebrows shoot up.

"Yes. Chris, what's wrong?"

"Um. Nothing. Look, I'm gonna come over. I need to talk to you."

Don't ask questions. This probably has something to do with Faye—she had thought that the dark girl had both brothers firmly on her side. Possibly not. Just agree, and ask questions later. This seemed like it had been very hard for him. "Okay. See you soon."

"Yeah. Bye." Click.

Ten minutes later—he must have walked—the ringing of the doorbell. Greetings, furtive glances from Chris, a quick hug. Upstairs, to the middle of the room, Chris looking even less comfortable than he had downstairs. Perhaps it had been the setting…in the place where so many circle meetings had been held. He quickly let it all spill out, like grimacing and yanking off a hangnail. He was about to possibly get on Faye's bad side if she found out, which was why he had to be back home before Doug came back. It had never been good to be on Faye's bad side…it didn't help that everyone was wondering now if such a thing could be deadly, even if the accusation was strictly unspoken.

It had been then that the stirrings of feelings had started. Chris had been looking out on the street, trying to peer down Crowhaven to his own house, to see if he could make out the jeep lumbering down the road. Not standing composed, as Adam often did, but nervous. Scuffing his feet, wiping off his palms on his jeans, twisting his fingers and plucking his shirt. He was like an uncomfortable toddler, Diana thought, making this comparison for not the first time in the course of their friendship.

Diana had felt such a sudden bolt of tenderness for him that it had shocked her. Tenderness wasn't something that had never occurred before when she was thinking and caring about the members of the circle. After all, she took care of all of them in her own way, and certainly the Henderson brothers needed more care than most, these days. But it was intensity of this feeling that made her gasp. It was as strong for Chris now as it had been the day she had found Cassie in the old science building, with soot and tears on her face and the tenor of terror in her voice. A sweeping flame of protectiveness and fury at whoever had done this to him, at whoever had debased his honor to such a degree that he had had to come to her for protection.

"Chris…it'll be okay." She had said, coming up behind him with a hand on his shoulder. Startled eyes from Chris, indeed like a toddler. "We'll take care of it." She promised, giving him the security he so desperately needed. And he wanted something, she could see it in his blue puppy-dog eyes. He was looking, rather guiltily, at Adam's lumber jacket. Then it was up to Diana to do something.

"Shhh…." She said, holding his chin gently with fingers and thumb. Moving his face, slowly, so that his tilted green-blue eyes looked squarely into her own peridot ones. "It will be fine. I promise." And then the action, so impulsive she didn't even give it lipservice from her mind. A kiss on the cheek, a quick hug. Chris's eyes fluttering shut, accepting her conviction and her promise with the whole-hearted faith of a child.

And then the consequential thought, the horrible idea. Had she only kissed Chris out of sympathy and protectiveness? Because, she did love Adam.

_Didn't she?_

Chris looked surprised to see her at the gate, to say the least, but surprisingly amiable. It was like high school again, was what worried her, chatting about inconsequential things and not really looking in each other's eyes. No one would have known they were husband and wife but the two of them.

"Chris?" She asked, choosing an opportune moment as he was rescuing a bag from the luggage carousel to put her hand on his shoulder. Chris glanced at her: the first specified acknowledgement of the evening. The thought popped into Diana's head. Well, maybe they wouldn't come out of this hating each other, after all.

"Chris, would you like to go eat dinner?" It was like waiting to see the results of an election. Would you please go wait in the hall miss, while some small black box decides your fate?

He stood up abruptly from his casual slouch, swung the bag onto a cart he readily fetched, and appeared to be busy studying other people's bags, then his shoes.

"Umm...Di, I just wanted to catch something at the house, you know? Kinda tired, is all." To illustrate the point, he brushed his hair off of his face, which had almost gotten messed up. It looked as if it had been reacting to the inner stress.

"But , Chris, " She said, tempering her voice to incite guilt in the worst possible way, running her cool fingers under his jaw in just that special fashion, " I already made reservations."

She hated doing this, _hated _it. It wasn't like her at all. In fact, Diana felt like she was masquerading as Faye. Not strange…hidden in secret pouches all over her body were the fire stones Diana rarely, rarely wore and that Faye swore by. They actually itched her skin, as if they knew they weren't supposed to be there. But it wasn't as if she was doing anything immoral…really. For the good of the kingdom, right? The security of the nation rested on the royal couple. But how silly, Diana wasn't part of the royal couple anymore, was she? Why this compulsion? Why this…nail clenching fury, that she must convince Chris to stay with her no matter the costs? Why this feeling that she was waging an impossible war unto death?

He had just closed his eyes, as if in pain, and agreed.

The restaurant had been carefully chosen: it was across the street from our favorite restaurant, the one they usually went to for anniversary dinners. This was so perfectly good memories weren't tainted, and also was to provide Chris with a lovely view out the window, with Diana's face in front of him.

The only thing that hadn't been planned was the food. Diana had stood in front of the mirror rehearsing the conversation for an hour and a half. All of these influences perfectly set, yet Diana didn't really want to hurt him. She _didn't. _Besides Adam, he had been her first love. He had helped her heal the pain when Cassie had gone to him, for though she had given Adam up willingly, it had still felt like ripping her heart out. They had been friends ever since childhood, they had been with each other through good times and bad. Diana didn't really want to hurt him, or make him pay, that wasn't the purpose of this. Just let him know, fully and completely, what Chris seemed only too eager to get away from, that was all.

Diana knew what was wrong. Chris was a great friend, and he loved her as a friend now, nothing more. He had liked the sex, the passion, the tenderness; who doesn't? Diana had liked it, too, and for other reasons, the almost-love had used to be comforting. But great admiration and kinship to one another had turned their relationship into something it wasn't, and now, nearly four years into the marriage, they had realized that.

"Chris-", at the same moment Chris said to Diana, "I have something to tell you."

Just, instead of making them laugh and look at each other, like the happening might have two years ago, now it just made a burning desperation show in each of their eyes, like they were desperately searching each other for something they knew they would never find. Diana took a breath, and felt her eyes start to tear.

"Chris." Diana said calmly, desperately trying to get a grip, "I know you want a divorce."

"Di." Chris said, as if he were choking. "Please don't take it that way. You know I love you, I swear I do, but it's not-"

"It's not the right kind of love. I know that, too, Chris, and I feel the same way."

Chris exhaled a mighty torrent of breath, and the look in his eyes relaxed. "So, we've decided."

Diana avoided his gaze. "Yes, I guess we have. But Chris, I have something else to tell you." She paused. Chris could see her breath was halted in her throat, as if her mouth might not let the words past.

"This is so hard to say, now that we've decided to get a divorce and all, you probably really don't want to hear this. But you have a right to know." Chris nodded, and held one of her hands.

"It'll be a lot easier if I just say if fast." She bit her lip, then forced herself to look at his eyes. "Chris, I'm pregnant."

Chris looked dimly shocked, and squeezed her hand again. Then, he kissed her on the forehead, leaning across the table to do so. Running through his head were conflictions between emotions: he wasn't sure if he felt betrayed for Diana not telling him earlier, stupid for giving her up, or absolutely humbled at her nobility. Twice, the men she loved had left her. How could she be dealing with this? Was there some core inside Diana that you just couldn't see?

Of course, that was a futile question. The circle had all known Diana was special, ever since they were all little.

"Di." He said. "We can stay married until the baby's born, if that's what you want." Diana shook her head.

"No, Chris, it wouldn't work. We've had a really bad atmosphere ever since we knew how we really felt about each other, and...not that you shouldn't be there, but I don't want..."

"No." Chris said, part in shame and part in extreme relief. "I understand completely."

"That's good. Chris, I still love you. And you'll always be one of my very closest friends. Promise we can talk to each other, always." Chris didn't even hesitate.

"Of course." Chris said. "Diana, I feel like a jerk. You're being so noble and good about all of this, and God knows you have the right to lock me up in a tower for ninety years after how I've treated you. I don't deserve you. I never deserved you." Chris sighed. "In fact, this is probably all futile, and I should just get the word 'stupid' tattooed on my forehead." Diana enfolded one of Chris's hands in hers.

"Chris, it's all right, really. Would I have said so if it wasn't?"

"No." Chris admitted. "But I still feel like a jerk. I'm getting out of this easy. I know that."

Diana looked straight into his eyes. "No you're not." She said, thinking about the words she was going to say next, which were not part of the rehearsed portion of the evening. "We're adults who both know what we want. I want a good life for my baby. You want freedom from marriage. I can understand you and you can understand me, and…it's just the truth. The truth doesn't hurt." _Liar_, Diana told herself. Later, she knew she would sit in the living room and imagine his warm body was still there and cry her eyes out.

********************

It was actually Deborah, and Suzan, who had had the great idea.

"Well, now what do we try?" Diana asked one day, as the females of the circle had gotten together to discuss the gem problem. The meeting wasn't formally female, as a matter of fact, it was just that Chris had gone to some important convention, Adam was at work, of course, Nick still being in Switzerland and Doug being wherever Faye had hidden herself away, Sean had decided to make himself scarce. Suzan had backed him up. 'It's not as if he _needs_ to be here.' She had said.

The problem, it seemed, was that something was draining the stones as fast as they were energized. Metal or no metal, star rubies or not, those stones were just being stubborn.

"I think," Cassie said, "that we ought to just leave them alone and let them do it themselves. My brain's turned to spaghetti. I don't understand these things half as well as I thought I did."

"That would be the general problem. And the thing is, Melanie wouldn't be getting anywhere with them either, because even she said she didn't know where the energy came from to replenish them." Diana sighed. "I asked her once. She described it as sort of like a super-nova...all of this built up energy goes out, and who knows where it comes from? Just gathered up over the years, maybe, or placed there by some divine being, who can tell?"

"What if we did that?" Suzan asked. Everyone turned to look at her.

"Did what?" Asked Deborah.

"Well, Melanie described the release of power like a supernova, right? Except you didn't know where the power to start the supernova came from in the first place. What if we put the stones in a...like a circuit, somehow, an electrical pathway..."

"That just gives them a jolt, and they're less willing to work with you afterwards, Suzan." Laurel said, with a sideways glance in that girl's direction.

"Not that exactly." The strawberry-blonde said slowly, thoughtfully. "Not real electricity. I'm talking about putting them in a big circle, almost, so they can energize each other. Like, when a coven combines their powers, it energizes everybody. Could the stones do the same thing?"

"Possibly." Diana said, considering it. "But that sort of thing, it would be like..."

"Like pyramid power." Laurel broke in. "The idea that a stable geometric structure of some sort raises and holds energy. Which is the whole bang behind the theory of why we hold witch power in circles to begin with. Tradition, perhaps passed down from the Pharaohs, for all we know."

"A bit like Cassie's idea of putting the stones in a structure made out of crystal, actually." Deborah said.

"But how would we make sure that the geometric structure was perfect?" Diana wondered. "Pyramids don't work when they're off-kilter, and neither do circles. We'd need to figure out the perfect structure for holding the power, the perfect order for the stones to best enhance each other..."

"We'd almost have to build a shrine or something, if we ever planned to use it again." Deborah said. "Maybe that's it. We build a permanent circle, set in cement or something. Put little boxes in the floor of it, measured out, so the stones are in perfect alignment."

"That would take a lot of work." Diana said.

"A lot of time." Laurel said.

"But wouldn't it be worth it?" Cassie asked.

The five women were silent. Then, they all came to a group consensus. Yes, it would be worth it.

"And it would be like a Yule project." Diana said. "We could all work on it together."

"But all of the permits it would take..." Laurel considered. "And the _money_."

"We can handle it." Deborah said. "We're all responsible, well-paid adults," She said, with a grin of satisfaction.

"And when the men get back, onward ho." Diana murmured.

"Actually, it could be like a sanctuary." Suzan put in. Everyone turned to look at her.

"Why do you say that?" Cassie asked.

"Well, I don't know. Just that it struck me that Diana had those prints in her room, of the goddesses, and we all are sort of like those goddesses, each in our own ways, you know? Don't look at me strange, Cassie, it just always seemed like that to me. But it seems weird that-and this is just some phrase that popped into my head, 'that we're goddesses who don't have a temple.' So, I think we should make it like a temple, all white and peaceful. And it can be our Sanctuary."

"Yes." Diana said, with the first look of peace on her face Cassie had seen in days. "Our Sanctuary."

********************

"Cousin dear," Faye said, as she paused to examine her blood-red nails playing fasticiously with the phone cord, "do you really want me to come over for Yule? There is a reason I left New Salem. Several reasons." Diana sighed.

"Faye, you're a _neighbor_. Besides being my cousin, and leader of the coven. It wouldn't be right for you not to show up."

"Let's just call it leader pro tam, being as I never seem to be able to get there."

"If it ever mattered, you would. You'd be there." Diana said.

"And that," Faye said, pouncing on the phrase as if it had signed it's own death warrant, "is another thing. This unfailing faith you have in people, Diana. When have I ever given you reason to trust me?"

"And I promise never to reveal the truths I shall learn, except within this circle or a properly prepared circle such as the one I stand in now, and never to harm another who stands inside it." Diana said. Faye snorted. The stony silence on the other end of the line was an apt reply that termed how Diana felt about Faye's irony. She wasn't pleased with the idea that the laws that had bound their coven for three hundred years had ever become a mockery made of, and by a coven leader...

"Faye." Diana said. "You don't really mean that, do you? About hurting anyone?"

"Well, cousin dear, let's say it doesn't seem to be first on my agenda. I am making an effort, though, if that matters at all. But frankly, I matter most to me, and that is that."

"Yes." Diana said. "I understand that, and you wouldn't be my cousin if I didn't. But on some level, we do matter to you."

"All right." Faye said. "You win. I suppose if you were all burning to death in a collapsing building somewhere, I might care. A little."

Diana was assaulted with a picture of the eerie red light that had invaded the abandoned number 13, as if a fire had been set underneath it. She shuddered. "Faye. Don't."

"What?" Faye said. "Would you prefer hanging?" Diana didn't enjoy the imagery.

"As for being hanged with your own rope..." Diana started.

"What?" Faye said. "Leadership problems?"

"No, no. Give them an inch, and they'll walk all over you." Diana said, the bitterness of irony reflecting itself in her strained voice. "Or away from you."

"Diana?" Faye asked questioningly.

"Nothing." Diana said, her voice dry. "Just Chris seems to want a divorce, is all." Faye sucked her breath in.

"Well. I'm sorry, Diana." She said.

"Don't be. It was probably for the best, anyway. Except now I'm pregnant." A stilted silence while Faye re-gathered herself. Diana almost chuckled at that. For once, she had shocked Faye, been the 'bad' cousin.

"Diana." She said, breathing out as she said it so that the word put on pounds of drama. "Do you want me to talk to him?"

"I already did." Diana said. "We made up our minds. I decided not to tell anyone until we did."

"And you told me first." Faye said. "I'm honored, I suppose."

"Just lucky. If I had been on the phone with Cassie, it would have been her."

"Well. Just to keep my head down to size, I suppose."

"Always taking care of you, Cousin." Diana said.

"You might need taking care of, pretty soon." Faye said. "Maybe I'll change my plans. Come on up after all."

"Would you?" Diana asked. She felt, oddly, as if she needed Faye's strength right now. Cassie was understanding, sure, but her presence had never filled the deep void for security inside her, that had started when Adam had first become distant, started when Cassie had first come to New Salem.

"Of course." Faye assured her smoothly. "I'll just leave work, let the world wonder where I've gone while I disappear to my little island habitat. The sanctuary of my childhood." Oh, the irony in pounds.

"Oh, and that reminds me." Diana said. "We're working on a project up here. We call it the Sanctuary, and it'll be like a permanent little circle, you know? Like a temple. We're building it on the beach, and of course we'll need as many people as possible to help."

"I never thought of witches as the type to erect churches." Faye said.

"It won't be a church, not really. There will be sand in the middle, we decided, so we can still draw the circle each time. But the sand will be in a cement ring, and put in the cement ring will be little metal boxes arranged in a geometric structure, for the sun-stones, to best empower them."

"Seems like an expensive project for a lot of stones."

"Perhaps, but if we can get the rubies and carnelians and the like to recharge themselves in less than two days, it will be well worth it."

"Interesting." Faye said. "Unlimited zap-power. Well, I'll wish you luck, because I have to go. If I'm going to take off for a month or more, I should at least do them the benefit of these interview tapes before I go. You'll be seeing an awful lot of repeats on the news for awhile."

"You would leave them to stew in their own juice." Diana said.

"You asked me to, didn't you?" Faye replied. "Good night, cousin."

"Good night." Diana said. "Sweet dreams."

********************

Meanwhile, Melanie had long been bored and was far away.

Their administrative circle had been discussing the prospects of picking up and moving internationally somewhere, depending on FDA laws. Except the creators didn't want to move anywhere, claiming that the experimental materials were too delicate, and moving them would be too expensive.

Yeah, sure, Melanie had put. Moving a one-ton tank of viral DNA is going to be expensive, all right. Sure delicate, those cold and flu germs. It wasn't as if you could just strain them off the plasma of anyone who had a sniffle, after all. The anti-move group had been very offended. Then, when she asked why the project had to move when they weren't even up to testing it on rats yet, the pro-move group had gotten offended, and then everyone seemed to be suggesting Melanie take the day off. Which meant when she returned tomorrow, nothing would have gotten done, but they would have avoided offending anyone in the process. Just like the good old States.

Which was why Melanie had first gone to a spa, and then to a bar, simply because getting drunk when you felt good was so much better than getting drunk when you didn't. She could have had wine sent up to her hotel room, but she had alternative aims, tonight. She had decided to try and get a man.

Not just any man, either. The pizza boys back on Crowhaven road...no, not one of those tonight. Right now, she wanted to feel superior. She wanted to feel her power as a woman. Yes, she wanted to _seduce_ someone, and some pathetic English loser just was not going to cut it. Melanie ran a hand over the front of her shirt, to check on the carnelian she had poised in her bra. Hell, they worked for Suzan. She was wearing no jade tonight. She figured she was about to do some very irresponsible things, and the last thing she needed was clarity of thought. She wanted to have _fun_.

So, along with that special carnelian, Melanie had worn a slinky black dress that made just looking at her as bad as a R-rated movie, and decided, in the process, that this would be the first and last time she would wear heels. She decided on a dance club, the one with the flashing lights you could see from three miles away, with horny boys ready to party. The dance floor was crawling, which was just what she wanted. She settled her expensive Italian shades on, and walked in like she owned the place. The doorman let her in as soon as she flashed a smile and lowered her glasses to wink at him, even though she had come up in a cab. The people in line stared enviously, and she blew one cute guy a kiss, even though he was sporting a date.

She got inside, snagged an empty table, and sat down like she was doing it a favor. She wanted to watch, first. Wouldn't do her any good to go out so gorgeous and still make a fool of herself.

_Hmmm. Evaluate, evaluate. That one over there looks pretty good-oh, no, he just turned around. _Melanie grimaced outwardly. _He has a pot belly. People like that should not wear tight shirts. I like that dress, but it would look better on me. Now, that blonde man over there. Yes, later I might just grace him with my presence. The lights look good on his hair. I wonder what sort of lights these are? LED's? And is some flunky just sitting up there in that window, tapping at some console? _Melanie lowered her glasses and squinted to see better. Yes, she could just about see the outline of someone behind that window, when the lights flashed. She scanned the room.

Waiters, too. This place was crawling with them. Melanie had already decided to judiciously ignore the help; they reminded her too much of the pizza boys. _Look at that one hottie there, with the black hair. That's not so bad. No, that's not bad at all. It would make me very happy. What color are his eyes..._Melanie squinted again. _Purple? I didn't know anyone had purple eyes. Oh. Wait. He's a waiter._ Though the man was inexplicably handsome, he was wearing the black combination that seemed to speak for their employment here. Melanie sighed resignedly. At that minute, he turned and saw her. Eye contact. Even though his section appeared to be all the way across the club, with the sunken dance floor in between them, he headed straight for her direction. Melanie sighed, and chose to lose sight of him. She didn't _really_ want him, anyway.

"Excuse me, miss? Would you like to order anything?" someone behind her asked. Melanie figured it was whatever pimply-faced nerd was waiting for her section, and she had just been about to turn around and tell him to get lost, when her eyes started functioning again. He was the guy from across the club. He was up close, right in front of her. That had been _fast._ A hundred feet away, he had been incredible. Two feet from her, he was _gorgeous_.

Melanie noticed that on him, tight clothing took a whole new meaning of illegal. He was taking orders with an electronic notepad. He had wavy black hair that looked all right, but that wasn't what had caught Melanie's attention. He had pale skin and those striking purple eyes, with a strong chin and a laughing mouth.

What was that Cassie had said once about a silver cord? Because Melanie's heart felt as it were being squeezed, as if he held it in his hands. The short distance between them seemed to be shining with light, as if some godly being were trying to push them together. Funny, he almost looked uncomfortable, too. His hands were moving all over, as if he were nervous.

"Are...are those contacts?" she asked.

"Nope." He said, and grinned. He appeared to relax, a little. "One hundred percent pure _au natural_, dear. They run in the family."

"Oh?" she asked. "And what family would that be?"

"Well," he said, "maybe if you're a good girl, later I'll tell you." Dimly, Melanie realized that this lovely, pompous jerk of a man was flirting with her. He was obviously used to having this effect on women. She became sure of that fact when he readjusted to give her an even better view of his profile. Yummy.

"Listen," she asked, "would you want to...dance? Or anything?" He cocked an eyebrow at her.

"Now, that wouldn't be very professional of me, would it? I'm on duty here." He said.

Melanie pushed down her glasses, stared him down with her winter-gray eyes. For a second, it was as if he lost his composure, and that thing like a connection flashed again. He even lost his pose, his grin sobering. "Do I look like I care?" Melanie asked. He had laughed at that, and re-affirmed himself.

"No, I didn't think you would. But you don't want to dance here, I know a much better place. And I'm on break in a half hour."

"How long a break?" she asked.

"Well, it depends if I decide to come back or not." He said, grinning. "But why don't I get you something expensive and alcoholic, and you wait for me? I'll go change and tell my boss I'm taking off early. Don't worry, the drink's on me." He grinned, and made a note on the pad. Melanie had agreed, and had sat back to watch the blond man, still dancing alone. It was a pity, but she had a much better catch for now. Besides, growing up with the Henderson brothers...well, anyone would have had quite enough of blondes.

When he got back, Melanie had gotten though her glass of champagne. It had come via a different waiter, with a note: _1973--a very good year_. Melanie had no doubt that that was the year her waiter friend had been born. Melanie was inclined to 1975 herself, though. However, the drink was some of the best champagne Melanie had ever tasted-like electrified sour lemonade. She had two. After her second glass, she felt slightly buzzed and prone to giggling. She highly doubted even the jade would have helped her now, but some amethyst might have. Amethyst-the drunkard's stone.

"Hello again." She said as her waiter came back. "My, you look so much better in that." _Not as tight, though_, she thought regretfully. He was now dressed in a shirt that was very dark purple, almost black, with black pants of some kind, that clung to his hips like silk with bad static. The purple brought out his eyes, and all of the concealing dark colors made him look wild and untamed, like some creature of the darkness. He had definitely not looked as good in his uniform. On his ring finger, there was a thick silver piece, probably white gold, with what looked like a black dahlia, carved into the top. Strange, Melanie thought. Probably some gothic wanna-be. He laughed.

"I think you're drunk, sweetie." He said. Melanie thought about it for a minute. He might be half-right...she never had been prone to alcohol in exorbant amounts.

"No." she commented. "Not really." She tossed her hair back. "Just lonely." She crossed her legs to indicate what sort of lonely she might be. His glance passed over her body, and Melanie had the idea, for a second, that those eyes were examining her, approving her. Somewhere, deep in their depths, she thought she might have caught a spark of recognition. That damn cord again, it looked as if it were affecting him, too.

"Really?" he asked. "Now how can such a pretty girl be lonely?" Melanie had shrugged.

"Shit happens." He studied her face.

"Now, that's a bitter attitude. Why don't we go out dancing, like you said?"

Melanie nodded, staring into his eyes. He helped her out of the chair, even though she felt she could have gotten up with commendable grace. She had held her head high as they walked out to the parking lot, and felt the eyes on her. Yes, she decided, it was a sweet thing to be walking out with the hottest man in the place. She decided that once they were married, she must take him to a dance club every weekend.

Out in the parking lot, behind the club, he led her to a sleek black Jag. Melanie whistled.

"Waiters must make more than I thought." She said, in a calculating voice. He laughed.

"You might say I have...other incomes." He said. "But I actually got this used, fixed it up."

"Old money?" Melanie asked. He frowned.

"You might say that." He said.

"We have some property, my family. Been passed down for generations, but I'm not rich." Melanie rethought her $150K yearly salary. "Well, the family isn't." she amended. "Since my aunt died, I support myself." The tone of her voice made it quite clear Melanie was proud of herself for doing so.

"Well." He said. "I attempt to support myself. I'm not quite as good at it as some people I could name."

"I'm sorry," Melanie said, "but there are no two ways about supporting yourself. You either do it, or you don't."

"Well then, I don't." he said. "I'm just a big baby."

"I wouldn't feel too bad about it, if I were you. It's the usual deficiency." She said. "You can always make up it for later."

"I feel privileged," He said with a frown. "Thank you." He opened the door for her. "What's your name, anyway?"

"I asked you first." She said.

"So you did. My name's Laurent. Laurent Harman." He looked at her, as if his last name was supposed to mean something. When Melanie just stared back, he dropped it. Definitely old money.

Laurent. Melanie tasted it, rolled it around on her tongue. It was a nice name.

"My name's Melanie." She said.

"Melanie." He laughed, starting up the engine. "It sounds so American."

"And Laurent sounds so British. You don't have an accent." She noted.

"My parents are imports themselves. We moved to England for my...training."

"Training in what?" she asked innocently. He had grinned.

"Let's just say I left home to join a very special Club." He grinned. "Why are you here?"

Melanie was amused that his coven was also called 'The Club,' because Laurent was obviously very much a witch. "A Club, huh?" she asked softly. "I came for a company." She said. "Administrating the next stage of a project. A medicinal project."

"Oh, you mean the big viral breakthrough that's been in all of the papers?" Melanie grinned.

"Well, in America it's very much hush-hush, since we'd need to work under FDA guidelines night and day."

"They're going to win the Nobel Prize for that. Imagine, electrifying DNA to break open codon triplets."

Melanie was interested. "Have you studied it?"

"I've dabbled in it, and I read the newspaper. I like to keep up with the world." He turned, and pulled into another parking lot. "We're here." He said, pulling the brake.

"So, what's the name?" Melanie asked.

"Called the Black Iris. Only for a very special sort of people."

"Well, then." Melanie said. "I ought to fit right in." A co-decision between Melanie and the champagne decided to take the plunge. "When did you become a witch?"

Laurent turned to look at her. He looked surprised, as if it were a subject one didn't broach without prior permission given. "I believe, there are no two ways about it, honey. You either are a witch, or you aren't one."

"Right." Melanie said, matching him stare for stare. "Well, then, I would be one. How about you?"

"Well," he said, "you might call me one. Or you might not."

"Oh?" Melanie asked. "A witch who isn't a witch?" Laurent's face became frantic for a split second.

"No, no." he said. "Don't say that."

Melanie blinked. "What? Mr. Jones will make you drink the nasty Kool-Aid if I say that?"

His brow furrowed. "Being questioned by Circle Daybreak can get ugly. I'd just rather you kept that saying to yourself."

"Circle Daybreak?" Melanie asked. Laurent just stared.

"Are you trying to tell me," he said, "that you don't know about Circle Daybreak?"

Melanie shook her head.

"Or about the Night World?"

"Sounds like a cult." Melanie commented.

He took out his keys. "We're going to a different club." He said. Melanie shrugged.

"Or." He said, jostling the keys with an expression conducive to deep thought. "If you would rather just stay here..."

Melanie gave him a look. "In the car?" she asked.

"No." He said, straightforward. Yes, the stick flies, you are meant to fetch it. Good Melanie. "I mean in the club."

"So, we don't leave?" She said, a little confused. It seemed firm footing in conversation was difficult to find with this guy.

"Not unless you want to." He said.

"What?" she asked, annoyed at being treated like a two-year-old, connection or no. "Are you scared I'll wreck the place or something?"

"They might wreck you." He said. "The people inside."

Some crazy division of the Mafia, Melanie decided. And this man is probably some serial rapist, and screwing with me, and I am in for it now. "Take me home." Melanie said.

"What's wrong?" Laurent asked.

"You are talking crazy. Do we go in the club, or not? If not, why not? I like answers."

"Right." Laurent said. "This is a club for Night World people."

"Oh." Melanie said. "Then it is a cult."

"No." he said. He sighed, as if giving up something mortally dear to him. "It's for witches, and vampires, and shape-shifters. All the...best people."

"Oh." Melanie said. "How fun." She studied him for another minute, trying to see if he was kidding. He gave her back stare for stare. He wasn't. "Take me home _now_."

He looked as if he were assessing her, and then he got out of the car. He looked back over his shoulder at her. "We try to keep the regular humans out, simply so the vampires don't go crazy."

Melanie laughed out loud. "Vampires?" What the hell, she figured. Throw the spike heels at something, and she could run. Feeling no pain, good champagne does that.

"Why not?" Laurent asked. "You believe in witches."

"That's because I _am_ one. I've never met a vampire." Melanie watched as they picked their way through the lot, went up to what looked like an employee's entrance, spray-painted with the same black dahlia he wore on his finger. He knocked three times, then pushed the door open.

"Well, then, let me introduce you. Red, this is Melanie." He gestured to the guard on the door, and the guard gave her the same wary look Laurent had given her when he had first seen her. Then her face cleared, and she stepped aside. Melanie turned to look at Laurent. It appeared as if the two were telegraphing signals to each other, leaving her out of it totally. Someone won, and Red stepped forward.

Melanie took in the small red-haired girl, eerily clad in black leather. The girl flashed a smile, displaying two sharp canine teeth. She licked her lips in a disturbing fashion, and Melanie put her hand on her throat. Red laughed. "Welcome to the wild side." She said cheerfully. The girl reminded Melanie a bit of Faye, when Faye had been very young.

"Back home, they used to say 'Welcome to the jungle,' but close enough, I guess." Melanie said. Red laughed, displaying those two sharp pointed teeth and a pierced tongue. She thrust out her hip in what Melanie guessed was a normal semi-imposing position.

"So you've picked up another one?" Red asked Laurent. Laurent flashed another grin.

"No, actually. _She_ picked up me."

"Ri-ight." Red said slowly. "I'd bet she didn't."

"You'd lose." Melanie told her. Red looked suitably impressed, and showed them into the main part of the club.

"But," Laurent was explaining, "vampires generally like to mix only with vampires and witches. And shape-shifters stick with witches, since vampires don't like them. So we don't get much of a vampire crowd here. " He smiled. "And that is fine with me. I like my veins intact." Melanie agreed, because his voice sounded so nice, and then took another sip of her fourth alcoholic beverage of the evening.

After several more drinks and a couple swings on the dance floor, both of them agreed it was time to go home. Except now they both realized that they didn't want to split up.

"Why don't you come back to my hotel room?" Melanie asked. A small voice whispered. You're playing with fire. Melanie ignored it. Laurent had a shocked look on his face.

"Why?" He asked.

"Well, because if you don't, I might have to marry you." Melanie threatened.

"I'd like to see that." A shape-shifter named Arnold said, with the only other yellow eyes Melanie had ever seen. He was skinny, with a big forehead and nose, and looked nice in a rebellious-derelict way. "Laurent's never going to get married. He announced it. Since then, he's become the Night World's most eligible bachelor."

"Well," Laurent said, "I might be convinced otherwise. By my soulmate, say."

"Oh?" Melanie asked. "You've got one?"

"Everybody's got one." Arnold said. He signaled the bar for another shot of tequila. He hadn't had anything bigger the whole night. He drank like a bird. "Just most folks haven't found them yet."

"Well." Melanie said. "I just have to say I haven't seen many." She said, thinking of Cassie and Adam, and wondered what the circle was doing now.

"Not like anyone has. As a matter of fact, though, people seem to be finding their soulmates more often now, especially Daybreakers." Arnold said, as if studying her reaction.

"How interesting." Melanie said, meaning that it wasn't. She had no desire to talk about Laurent's optimum love life, unless it involved her. Just as she thought that, she felt a tightening of her heart.

She finally got Laurent out of the club, and he agreed to go to her hotel. Just for a drink, he said. Melanie agreed wholeheartedly. So when she went to go get the soda, since it had been decided they had both consumed far too much alcohol, she had put on some ylang-ylang perfume Faye had given her once: just in case. Ylang-ylang was a potent desire-enhancer. If the carnelian didn't work. Oh, and a ruby, for passion. Why not, she figured.

She put the soda down in front of him. He sniffed. "Ylang-ylang?" he asked. She froze, her gradual plan of getting him horizontal on the couch ruined. She sighed, dropped down next to him, and nodded. She shrugged, defeated. He was always second-guessing her. She touched the skin of his wrist. Sparks seemed to go up her arm, and he looked at her, shocked. Melanie kept her head lowered, and then, regaining her composure, she looked into his eyes.

"We're both grown adults. Why hide what I want?" She asked.

"Well." He said, and lay back on the couch. "That's the first time you mentioned it all evening."

"I tried." Melanie said. "All night. But you're stupid." She said teasingly. "Pity, though, you have such a nice body."

"Well, then." Laurent said, with a twinkle in his eye. "Since you put it that way..." he walked past Melanie into the bedroom. Melanie followed him and closed the door.

Click. Click.

"_Carnelian?_"


	5. Chapter Four

"I wonder," Suzan asked "when we are going to start searching the rest of the houses for anything interesting?" She mentioned it almost as an absentminded remark, and both Cassie and Diana looked up guiltily. Suzan had found her lost family articles three years ago when she had married Sean, and had wound up shuffling all her belongings around. It wasn't quite an absentminded remark, and it wasn't meant badly or judiciously…just that Suzan wanted everyone to feel happy. She was generous in that way.

"I mean," Suzan said quickly, seeing the looks on their faces and being quick to cover her concern, "it isn't as if stuff that's been sitting there for three hundred years can't wait. We don't _need _to do it now, but we've been having so few meetings, and we're not really doing anything, since no one's here. I was just wondering."

"Actually," Diana said, "as long as we have been waiting, maybe it would be best to do it with the whole circle."

"Well, I suppose." Suzan said, in her cheerful I'll-just-go-along-with-it tone. "So, how many eggs do we need?"

Melanie having left, and Laurel up to her neck in order forms, it left Cassie, Diana, Suzan and Deborah to think of something interesting to do. They had decided to have a slumber party, for reasons relating to smoky childhood fantasies. They had gone to the local convenience store for packages of raw cookie dough and brownie mix, and Deborah was the only one with the bottle of halfway decent champagne. The others had declined the offer.

"Now," Suzan said, chewing thoughtfully on a carrot stick, which made Cassie shudder, "I think we should brainstorm. An interesting thing is that Cassie's family seems to have had an affinity for bricks. Hiding things behind them, I mean. I wonder if everything is behind brick somewhere, or does each family have its thing, or what?"

"Of course each family had something different." Deborah said. "They were hiding them from a sadistic co-leader of the coven. What would you do?"

"I," Suzan said, "would dig a hole somewhere in my house, if it became necessary. Plaster it up."

"But obviously they wanted to get at it again." Cassie said. "This isn't easy. I'm guessing only Diana's ancestors had enough guts to hide it in the attic."

"Or, it's possible that descendants might have taken them out again and replaced them elsewhere. For all we know, Black John's come back every three generations or something, and the books keep getting hid again." Deborah said.

"As far as we know, that isn't true." Diana put in.

"So we're just assuming that each house has it's own little hidey-hole, Cassie's was in the fireplace, Diana's in the attic, and the rest..." Suzan summed.

"Who knows?" Cassie finished.

Diana sighed, and put down the knife with which she was slicing chocolate.

"Maybe the books have clues. Or in some house is a map."

"Too easy." Cassie said resignedly. "Maybe they're giving off traces, but we could barely feel what the Master Tools gave off, so how could we track anything fainter?"

"Not to mention that other important things, like diaries and documents, aren't going to be giving off any traces at _all_..."

"This is depressing." Suzan remarked. "I want to _eat_."

"Well, one thing we can do." Cassie said, "although I don't think it would help much." Diana's eyebrow perked.

"I was thinking that spell for lost items." She said. "But it probably wouldn't work."

"I think the lost item would originally have had to be a found item. We never had a clue." Diana pointed out.

"But I found the master tools. How do you suppose that worked?" Cassie asked.

"You used a moonstone, right? So you were convincing yourself to let those memories resurface. Through Jacinth, I suppose, since she was there when they were hidden."

"All of us have to have an ancestor who witnessed _something_." Deborah said.

"But not all of us work so well with moonstone." Diana who said, who seemed to continually represent the voce of pragmatic logic.

"I wish we could pick the memories out of the master tools. _They've _been around forever, and if the memories of the old coven are going to go anywhere, it's there." Suzan said.

"But _can_ we improvise like that? I haven't seen, or dreamt, anything like that. It's not like an object can have _feelings_." Cassie said.

"I don't know about that." Diana said. "A lot of times, when I was younger, I wore the ceremonial tools to cast the circle. The ones we had made, of course. And they...influenced me in different ways, you know? Stones do it as well, and your working stone has feelings for the person who finds it. If objects can do that, why can't they have memories? Didn't you say something about the knife, Cassie?"

"About the bracelet." Cassie corrected. "That night with Black John. He gave me the knife, and it was as if my hand remembered how to throw a knife, even though I'd never thrown one before."

"You never told us that." Deborah said. Suzan raised an eyebrow. "You threw a knife at him?"

"He caught it." Cassie remarked absent-mindedly.

"If a bracelet can remember how to throw a knife, then it sure as heck ought to remember, oh, if anyone ever dug a hole to hide something in." Deborah said.

"Maybe." Cassie said. "But somehow, it just doesn't...seem right. When I threw the knife, it didn't feel like the rest of the information that I found out. It was instinct, automatic."

"Well." Suzan said, putting the spoon down. "It can't hurt."

"But how would we use them?" Cassie asked. "They've always been ceremonial for us...we've never actually used them as tools."

"The pendulum spell." Suzan said suddenly. Cassie looked up and met her eyes.

"What?" Deborah asked.

"The pendulum, when we were tracing the dark energy. We just took it to where the dark energy had been, and it found it's way from there. So what if we do it again, but whoever's holding it wears the bracelet? And we start at the old fireplace..."

"It might work." Diana said. "If whatever it is, is giving off traces."

"I say we do it tonight." Cassie said. "At midnight. It's waning moon."

"Witches powers are stronger the more the moon is out." Diana reminded her.

"So if it doesn't work, we'll try it again in two weeks." Cassie said sensibly. "Just to give it a shot."

"Oh, all right." Diana said. "But I'm not even sure we'll come up with anything." Deborah chuckled.

"We can be glad we don't live up in the city. Four women wandering around, in the dark, with a stone on a chain." Deborah said.

"Maybe Adam should come with us." Cassie said. She half-turned to go fetch him.

"No." Suzan said. "This is a female thing." Deborah and Diana both nodded, and Cassie sighed.

"It's all right, Cassie." Deborah said. "_I'll_ protect you."

"All ready?" Diana asked. "Anyone cold? How are your feet, Cassie?"

"Oh, I'll survive." Cassie said. "As long as this thing doesn't take us to Boston and back." Diana smiled.

"Our ancestors were homebodies, remember. They didn't have any reason to go into the city."

"Makes them sound so boring." Suzan said.

"Boring." Deborah snorted. "If the witch hunts were anything like what we went through, that's plenty of excitement, thank you very much." Cassie reached into her pocket to get the house key for number 12.

"I haven't been in here in so long." She said. "It feels weird."

The house looked weird, too, she noted absently. When she and her mother had moved out, everything had been covered with white sheets. It smelled musky, like any house will when it's close to the ocean and hasn't been lived in for awhile. But what struck her the most was that it was _cold_. She was glad for her shawl and long dress. Her glance drifted over the kitchen to look out of the glass patio door, and she was relived to see the garden still seemed to be doing fine. Not that it wouldn't be, because Cassie had never seen her grandmother give it any particular sort of care. It seemed to thrive just fine on it's own, given the benefit of an occasional rain shower.

Cassie took up post in front of the fireplace, whose tired old bricks showed the evidence of it being built and patched up again and again. Deborah, Suzan and Diana stood around her in a loose interpretation of a circle.

"Okay." Diana said. "So everybody concentrate on, maybe finding the books of shadows, or finding any other master tools or important documents. Maybe just concentrate on your ancestors, if you knew them, or finding old things. I'm sure it would help if we could focus on something, but since we can't..."

"Wind and water, air and sea, help us see what we need to see." Cassie murmured. She closed her eyes are pictured the book of shadows in Jacinth's hands, as she had remembered it from her dreams. She saw flashing golden eyes and sunlight-and-moonlight hair. Diana repeated the chant, and they said it steadily as the pendulum of clear quartz began to swing, away from Cassie. Deborah moved out of its way, and the group clustered behind Cassie to follow it. They had followed the pendulum out the door and to the middle of the street, when it suddenly changed direction, leading them down Crowhaven road, out towards number one.

"This is familiar." Cassie said, looking at Diana. Diana nodded tersely. The pendulum was taking them down the same path as the dark energy. What did it mean? Deborah shined the flashlight on the quartz pendulum and it flashed conspiratorially.

Sure enough, the pendulum led them straight into the old cemetery. Now they were all on edge. Cassie tried to move smoothly in time with the pendulum, even though there was assorted debris on the ground, and the high grass scratched her legs.

"What's it doing?" Deborah whispered, and Cassie could hear the threads of nervousness beneath her brave facade. Cassie shrugged in answer.

The pendulum led them through the small, worn, intricately carved graves. Going past the simple stones where the parents of the coven were buried, past the names of some of the ancestors they knew, past others they didn't. Anne-Marie Bjornsen, Gretchen Schmidt, William Walker. So much more decorative they had been in those times, Diana thought, and they looked as if they had been carved with such care. The pendulum stopped at one stone, nearly hidden by overhanging branches and bushes. They could see the carving, though. It was one that had always scared Cassie, a little. An angel held a baby in her arms, and a skeleton had its hand on the angel's shoulder.

"Must have died in childbirth." Diana said. Cassie nodded, concentrating on the picture. Why did it give her the shivers? She stifled a gasp and bit her lip as the baby kicked something tender.

"But you don't think anything is _buried_ here, do you?" Deborah asked. "That seems a bit too simple, burying the tools in the graveyard."

"Who would stoop to digging in a graveyard?" Diana asked.

"Black John would." Cassie said, and the others didn't hesitate to believe her. "It is too easy."

"Is there a name on it?" Suzan asked, looking at the grave. Diana knelt down and brushed away the branches, put them behind the stone. She looked up at Cassie.

"It's her." Diana said, and shined the flashlight on the small surface. Cassie looked down at the gravestone, and the world fell away.

_Jacinth Hanover. Born August 12, 1703, died March 3, 1725. May They bless her and keep her._

"She was so young." Cassie breathed.

"They had children young, in those days. Probably her second or third child, though. Twenty-two was pretty old to be just married, in those days."

"I wonder where Kate is buried." Cassie wondered.

"Probably with her family. That's odd, actually, because where was her husband buried? They would have put them together, after he died. But Jacinth's all alone." Diana remarked.

"Maybe she wasn't married." Deborah said.

"But that picture." Diana said. "And she was so young..."

"People died young for all sorts of reasons." Deborah said. "Pneumonia, smallpox, even fever. It didn't have to be childbirth."

"You're right." Diana said. "I suppose I've just got babies on the brain. Who doesn't, now?" She cast a glance around. "We should go. We can come back in the morning, when we can see better, but this isn't going to do us any good now."

The four women left, the pendulum stuffed hastily into Deborah's pocket, with the flashlight to guide the way out.

********************

Two nights later, Deborah was still trying to get the image of that gravestone out of her mind. For some reason, it had taken up residence there and refused to leave. She sighed, looking at the bathroom plans on her computer, trying to resize them for the extra piping that needed to be installed, but she couldn't keep her concentration. She looked instead at the small sketch of the picture on the gravestone, as she remembered it. The day before, she had gone out to the graveyard and made a rubbing of that picture, because it had so captured her attention. It was taped to her wall, now, next to pictures of the capitol building and Montacello.

Of course, there were a million little things Deborah could have done with this house. There were any number of friends who would have been happy to do it for free. But somehow, after her parents had finally gotten divorced and gone their separate ways, it had seemed like sacrilege. She had moved into the other master bedroom, the one that was never used, with it's large windows and ceiling fan, and had decorated the walls with pictures she color-copied out of coffee table books. It was a nice room, it was a nice house, and it didn't seem particularly pertinent to change it, nor did it seem particularly necessary to move.

She still had her motorcycle, of course. When the feelings got so bad that she felt like a caged ferret, she would ride through the night, along the coast, over the scenic highway. Once, she had gone into Salem, trying out a couple late-night bars and the like. It had been a mistake, since it seemed women who weren't flirting with beefy brainless men weren't welcome in such pieces-of-shit as mentioned. She had tossed back a couple of shots to numb her to their icy glares, then left, taking the cold, artificially-lit interstate home. When drunk, she didn't trust herself not to crash the bike into a tree.

Looking once more at the shockingly bright computer screen, and deciding the area calculations for the pipe layout could wait until the morning, she took a long hot shower, and then had some tea. For calming and relaxation, a patented Diana recipe, made with ground-up catnip. Deborah chuckled, and called over her small black kitten, letting him sniff the potent liquid. He shriveled up as if trying to crawl out of his skin, and then jumped on the bed, butting her arm repeatedly. Deborah laughed, finished the tea, and climbed into bed, stroking the kitten's ears.

_Deborah_.

__

Deborah rustled in her sleep. Turned this way, that, threw off the covers. Pillowed her head against her arm, shoved into the headboard.

_Deborah_.

She kicked at something phantasmal, wrestling with the folds of her sheets.

_Wake up, Deborah. Now._

Deborah woke up, gasping for air. Something, someone...in bed with her? No, nothing there. Where was the light? Oh, there, a tiny spot in the window.

She felt herself sitting up and blinking. She turned to see the electric clock by her beside. Way too early for the sun. She stretched and yawned like a big cat. And where was her cat?

Wait. If it was way too early for the sun...then what was the light?

Streetlight? There aren't any streetlights on Crowhaven Road. What's out there?

Deborah got up and went to the window, noting in some unaffected part of her brain, the absence of her cat. A _person_ was glowing, out there, on the road. A little girl, that she could see just out of the corner of her eye. Or, not little. Small. A small girl, maybe five feet or so. But the face...the face looked older. And the girl was glowing.

Deborah, any other day, would have sworn she was going insane. But somehow, in this twilight-that-shouldn't-be-twilight, at one o'clock in the morning, it seemed perfectly acceptable. The little girl turned her head, nodded in Deborah's direction, and whispered her name in a voice that bypassed her brain and went straight to it's occupation of giving her eardrums the chills.

_Deborah. Come, Deborah._

Deborah shivered. As she collected her bathrobe and slippers, she realized something incredible. She was actually going to do it, go outside and right next to this strange glowing girl. It must be a dream. When she stubbed her toe on the stairs, she realized she could feel pain. Must not be a dream. Maybe a weird dream. Why else would she go outside to talk to some strange, glowing short girl? Not just because the girl wanted her to. But here she was, outside on the street at one in the morning, going up to her.

The girl cocked her head, nodded Deborah closer. Deborah realized, in some strange part of her that insisted everything happening here was perfectly normal, that the girl looked like Cassie. She had the same soft blue eyes, the same small chin and wavy hair. Something wrong about that hair. The dress, that was it. The dress was puritan, collar to ankle, with cuffs, dark and modest with no decoration. Why wasn't her hair bound?

"What's wrong with your hair?" Deborah asked. The girl shrugged, laughing, a tinkling sound like rushing water.

_I don't like it that way_.

"What happened to my cat?" Deborah asked. It seemed like a reasonable question.

_Cats don't like me_. A pause. The girl bound her hair back with a ribbon, smoothed out her dress. _Come along. There is much I have to show you._

"Show me what?"

_What you asked to see._

God, what did I ask to see that a ghost has to come and show it to me. Deborah resolved from now on to keep a firm recollection of her doings while drunk. "Who are you?" Deborah asked, suspicious. Following this girl onto the street was one thing, but where was she leading her?

_Jacinth Hanover. _The phantasm answered, as if it were perfectly normal to stand in the street and announce you were three hundred years dead. _And you know where we are going._ The girl held out her hand, and cautiously, Deborah took it. It felt like a cool silk pillow. They walked down the street, towards number one. Deborah recognized it as the path to the cemetery they had taken last night, but then, she wasn't surprised. Why else would the dead girl whose grave they had looked at last night come to talk to Deborah? Not to go sit on the beach.

_Are you scared?_ The girl asked.

"I don't think so." Deborah said. "I think I'm ready." For what, she had no clue, but ready for something she indefinably felt.

_That's good. I was scared._

"Should I be scared?" The girl shrugged, gave another of her answers-that-were-not-answers.

_I was._

The girl began humming, and if it were possible for notes to be made out of champagne, well then, that was what this music sounded like. The most pure stuff ever to have been created, the essence of the notes. Deborah recognized the song. It was actually one of her favorites when she felt like being solitary.

_I light the candle charm,_

The daylight is almost gone.

The birds have sung their last,

The bells call all to mass.

Sit here by my side,

For the night is very long,

There's something I must tell,

Before I pass along.

Deborah heard church bells ringing. Though she had never seen it before, she recognized a church steeple above the rest of New Salem.

_We allowed them to build it here. It keeps them comforted. Where should they be without their God? _Deborah nodded, as if this all made sense.

"Where are we?"

_I am taking you where you need to go._

They were passing Diana's house now. But Diana was not coming out of it. Instead, there was a stately blond woman sweeping the step with an old-fashioned bound broom. None of the houses were painted, and the paved street had become a dirt road, with deep gutters. She could even smell the authentic horse manure, and her nose itched at the phantom dust from the dirt road. Strangest of all, Deborah realized that it was supposed to be daytime, as a phantom sun rose in the sky.

Jacinth led her to that chilling gravestone the women had wondered over the day before, and very nonchalantly, Jacinth sat on it. Deborah thought maybe it would be disconcerting to sit on your own gravestone, but perhaps you got used to being dead. Jacinth gestured for Deborah to sit at her feet, and though Deborah felt a small weakening of dignity, she didn't protest. Yet another weird thing.

_This is not my grave._

"What?" Deborah asked. The name was clearly engraved, swathed in a stretch of ethereal sunlight. With the sort of logic one uses in dreams, Deborah determined that the statement didn't make sense. She shook her head like a dog trying to rid itself of an ear tick.

_My body does not lie here. Not anywhere, actually. Death does not touch me._

"So where is your body?" Deborah asked. Jacinth smiled.

_Flesh is not designed with three hundred years in mind. It gave out. I disposed of it. But death has still not touched me, and it will not. Not until I allow it to._

"Lovely." Deborah said, with only a hint of sarcasm, "Good for you."

_You wonder how this concerns you._

"Nice Guess."

_Death does not touch me until I appoint a replacement. You are my replacement._

"You want to die?" Jacinth gave another mysterious half-smile,

_I want to rest. I'll come back, every once in awhile. I would never abandon you, companion and friend._

Deborah nodded, picked a stem of phantasmal grass. Relished the feeling of half-air between her fingers. Like solid smoke.

_There is much I need to tell you_.

"Fire away."

The phantom glanced at the obscured sky. _There is no time. I must return, yet I fear that when I do, I will be too late. But there is no help for it._ The girl slid off the gravestone. _I can show you one thing, though._ She pointed to the lettering, to the detailed first letter of every word. To the 'J' that started her own first name.

_The first will be Joy_. Then she pointed to the picture. _Death surrounds all that she guards, but it never touches the guardian._

Then Deborah had the disconcerting feeling of falling backwards through a small space, and awoke with a start in her own bed.

********************

Cassie sighed and rolled over as far as she could, pulling the blankets close. It was late, and she was restless. She just couldn't seem to sleep. But she didn't want to read, and she couldn't seem to relax. What could she do?

I know, she thought. I'll go work on the sanctuary. Dig the beds Laurel wanted to plant tomorrow.

Perhaps, in some other time, it might have occurred to her to be careful. Perhaps she might have avoided all that followed, although she doubted it. But for heavens' sake, it was New Salem. It was an island, completely isolated, the houses up on a high bluff overlooking the ocean, a twenty minutes' drive from town. Everyone else was asleep, and she didn't need to be protected anyway.

She was a witch, wasn't she?

With that thought in her head, she pulled on a heavy bathrobe over her warm billowing flannel nightgown. She shuffled on her slippers, and crept out the back door.

The night air was cold, wet, and delicious. She stood there, among her mint and honeysuckle and lavender roses, and just breathed in the smell of being outside. Then, opening the rickety wooden gate slowly so it wouldn't creak and wake Adam, she started down Crowhaven Road to the beach. The houses down here were empty; number 12 where she had lived growing up. Number 11, Melanie's house, traded for Laurel's once Nick moved out and Melanie's aunt Constance had died, around the same time. Number 10, stoic and abandoned for decades. And that lot, scattered with bricks and broken glass and weeds, where once she had taken her coven on the night of a lunar eclipse to fight off Black John.

Without warning, her stomach fluttered. Then he kicked, once. It hurt, a little, but it wasn't too bad. She kept walking. Then, with a tenderness that made her gasp, she felt a slight mental touch, as if the baby were trying to tell her something. She listened, intently, her ears seeming to echo in the silence, and then moved on.

She stopped again for a second, looked around at the wind and thrashing surf. The weather in discord, but somehow still in an eerie state of calm. As if waiting, and protesting what was to come. The mental voice inside her head, made up of feelings too new to form words, knew there was pain ahead.

__

The flash of words was like gentle fingers in her mind, gone before she could really sense it. But she was lonely. She had to go on, had to go walking. Keep going, Cassie. The voice was quiet.

She made her way down the bluff, the long way around, by the back of number 12, and walked down the shore on the crumbling damp sand. She could see the stars clearly, away from the scattered lights. There was Orion, king of the sky, the hunter. There was Capricorn, the constellation of half of the circle. She knew her own, Cancer, the crab, was on the other side of space and time. She wished it were here, she would feel less alone.

The thought hit her like a speeding train. She felt alone. _Alone_. So painfully alone, like no one understood her or even wanted to try. She knew she wasn't, that Adam loved her and Diana loved her, and she loved them and the rest of the circle. But her emotions weren't listening.

It was probably why she had gone out walking like this. Because she felt so alone, compelled to be isolated. How weird was that? She turned her head and looked back. A half-mile away, she could just make out the housetops in the darkness. She had been walking for awhile.

But here she was, at the sanctuary by the sea. The sand comb, pressed down, so that the tiny ridges crunched underneath her slippers. The large pieces of driftwood stacked up around so that the circle vaguely reminded her of Stonehenge. The large white rocks that were actually very impure pieces of quartz, doing their duty, holding down the sand. This place gave her such a feeling of peace, and at the same time, power. She thought about casting a circle, but decided not to. It would only be wasting energy, and she wasn't that cold.

That was before she felt the dark flicker at the edge of her mental solitude. Impinging, but only a gentle violation.

_Adam?_ she called. No answer. _Diana?_

This was the point at which she realized: in the middle of confusion, you are the weakest you can ever possibly be. Her mind was wide-open, curious and oblivious to surrounding danger that waited just outside. As she stepped outside the sanctuary to locate where the mental feeling was coming from, darkness rushed in on her from all sides. And that was when she fell.

She had crummy survival instincts. She had never been in a fight, not a physical one, although she knew it wouldn't have helped. The thing attacking her was lonely, black, and distinctly _not human_. Something that smelled like water and blocked off her mind, and was fighting to hold her down. Arms that she instinctively knew were female and very strong. She stopped fighting, felt the grip loosen a little, and surged up again. The thing was not surprised, as it blocked her and held her still, but Cassie hadn't been hoping for escape. As the thing reacted quickly, Cassie shot off a mental beacon to Crowhaven Road, a blast of pure power, just like the old days. _Distress, SOS, come help me. Cassie in trouble, helphelphelphelphelp...AdamIloveyou..._

That was when she felt a wheezing choke hold, a smarting glance off her temple. And then the world went black.


	6. Chapter Five

The night is cold, and the smell of salt is in the air. The wind is perfectly still, perhaps the effort of the elements, trying to protect the girl lying there for as long as they can. Wafting through, mixed with the salty smell is a disgusting odor; the copper scent of blood. There was silence, for although the members of the circle knew something had happened, the flash of premonition was quieting their voices. Deborah got to the body first, and her vision blacked out. She felt a wash of sickness. Deborah, who had held Mrs. Howard's hand as she lay, burnt and dying. Deborah, who had calmly observed all of the events the night they had killed Black John, and come through it without a mental scratch. Deborah, who had seen Faye do her worst and had seen dead animals and dead people before, who had seen all of the pain life could bring, who was hardened to it all--Deborah had to clench her fists to keep from throwing up. It was almost a losing battle.

Cassie lay there, in the middle of the sanctuary circle, on the combed sand, which had splashes of blood on it. Her stomach was flat, Deborah realized queasily. That, and it looked as if some animal had ripped her open, gutted her. Her face was white, shining in the moonlight, and had a ghostly waxen sheen. There were bruises around her face and eyes, but all Deborah could really see was that terrible gaping hole. The baby...where had the baby gone? It didn't matter. Cassie was cut open, bleeding on the sand, her clothes a bloody mess. Cassie would die...oh, god, dear god...

"Oh my God, don't come any farther!" Deborah yelled, finally getting her senses back in order. Diana, who was near the front of the line, saw anyway. Adam ran up, and Diana pushed him away with every ounce of strength she had, determined not to let him see. She bit back a cry and buried her head in his shoulder. Adam fought her, but Diana held on, with what power Adam did not know.

"Someone go back and call 911! Diana, get him _out_ of here!" Deborah yelled, quickly taking charge of the situation. "Someone get Diana out of here! Go back to number 9 and call 911! Now, pronto! We can't carry her up the beach!" Laurel herded Adam and Diana away. Deborah stood over the body, casting the few heavy-duty protection spells she knew that could be cast and taken down quickly. Sean ran back to call the paramedics, and Suzan went with him to get temporary medical supplies. One thing they all knew; if they didn't get help quickly, she would die. Death. It floated all around them. It had tried to kill Cassie, it would try to kill them, somewhere over there, and just beyond...Deborah thought she might be going hysterical. She couldn't look at Cassie's body, she _couldn't_. She had to look away, get herself into shape, and look out for number one. God, who had done this? _Who_?

That's right, anger. Anger is more useful than fear. Get angry. Deborah paused so she could get angry, and a bright red haze spread over her eyes. She wanted to hurt, she wanted to _kill_ whoever had done this. Maybe they were still around. Maybe she should go look for them. After all, no helping Cassie now. Should go look for killer, hurt them bad. Deborah started to walk away.

Off in the distance, alone and distressed, Deborah heard…was that a baby's cry? No, more like a squall, a peal of indignation, but it had definitely come from a child. Her killing anger melted, leaving her shivering and alone and lost. All she wanted was to hold Cassie's body, as if it were her own mother lying there on the ground. She took her pulse, relieved to see it was faint, but there. She was unconscious, and breathing very slowly. Hoarsely. As if there were blood in her lungs, maybe. The thought put a chill shiver in Deborah's heart.

She waited. The crying, mewling, whatever it was, continued. Little sounds, that didn't get any weaker. One time they raised in measure, as if they had for an instant become happy at something. Deborah bit her lip and gritted her will and steeled herself against the incredibly strong desire to go and look for the source of the cries. Laurel should be back soon, or Suzan. Sean would go to wave the paramedics up the hill. She should wait until Suzan came back. For God's sake, she just couldn't leave Cassie here alone, in the dark, with nothing but a circle protecting her from infection, from death? But the baby, it was crying. Where was it?

Suddenly, she saw a bobbing spot of white. Suzan had brought back a flashlight. She ran up to the circle, being careful not to spray sand anywhere. Suzan brought her hand up against a thick resistance of air that was protecting Cassie.

"Deb, take down the circle. Can we lift her, get this sheet under her? If you cut your stomach open, you're supposed to just use wet cloths, so that's what I brought. Who did this? Who in _hell_ did this?" Suzan fixed the sheet underneath the waxy pale form, and used wet sheets to cover the gaping hole cut in Cassie's womb.

"I don't know. Look, Suzan, I have to go." The cries had stopped. As if teasing her, she heard a happy gasp in the darkness, and then again, the night-dark silence.

"Go? Go, hell. You're staying here with me. Don't you go anywhere. What if this bastard's still around?"

"I don't care. I heard a baby crying."

"A baby crying?" Suzan asked. "Deb, you're hallucinating. The baby's dead, gone, whatever. All we can do now is save Cassie, or try." Deborah sighed.

"Does she have a pulse? I thought so, but..." Deborah put her hands to Cassie's neck, felt for it again. Barely there. Maybe she was imagining it. Like the cries that Auzan said she couldn't hear.

"I think." Suzan said. "It's very weak, because of the blood loss. But she still has blood to the brain. She's alive now. Maybe she'll make it. God, I hope she makes it." Her voice was worn, drawn out. "Sean, get here. I need you." She whispered.

"Can I put up the circle again? I feel so fucking useless." Deborah said bitterly. If Cassie was dead and the baby couldn't be found, what was the use in doing, in being, anything? Had to go after the cries. Couldn't do a thing for Cassie now. Had to go search. But Where? She hadn't heard any cries for a minute or so--but what did she know? It was entirely possible her sense of time was completely and utterly shot, for now.

"Let's use the rocks, make it a strong one." Suzan put forward. "Together, concentrate." Their combined energy, affected by stress and adrenaline, produced a shiny dome of blue-white, covering Cassie's limp body. Laurel came back, and the three made a human ring, protecting their leader from the cold and sand, and anything that might kill her in this fragile state. Suddenly, Laurel froze.

"I hear sirens!" she cried. Her hands squeezed theirs. Ten minutes later, flashing lights and barking noises meant the paramedics had arrived at the bluff. From there, they would have to walk. Sean came running up and embraced Suzan, and Suzan hid her head. When the white-suited officers brought the stretcher over to where they saw the people, the women stood up and quickly dismembered the circle. Two paramedics loaded her on the stretcher and started to carry her back to the bluff. Two stayed behind on the beach to question Deborah, Suzan and Sean.

"How did you find her?" he asked.

"Just exactly like that. We went and got the wet cloths, but she was just like that. We didn't really know what to do..." Suzan explained.

"You did the right things." He assured her. "If the wind had been blowing, she'd have been dead by now. We'll see. You'll all need to come down and talk to the police...did anyone else witness this?"

"Her husband," Deborah said slowly, "and another woman. They're up in the house."

"They'll need to come down too, her husband for the papers." The paramedic started walking, and Sean and Suzan followed him. Deborah started to follow, then wrenched around and ran to the cliff wall where she had heard the crying all this time. Suzan hadn't heard it, but then, Suzan had been distracted. No one had heard him except for Deborah. No one had cared about this baby. Except for Deborah.

But this baby sure didn't look as if no-one cared about him. Deborah stopped a foot away, frankly amazed by what she saw, or didn't see, rather. The child lay on the sand, kicking fairly strongly, sand in his hair but otherwise clean and dry. What was left of the umbilical cord had sand on it as well, though it looked as if it had been cut and curled inward. And all around the child was the feeling of protection, of sanctity, of the earth looking out for him. And it was the earth, Deborah realized. This child had called on the Powers to protect him.

Besides the feeling of the powers of Earth in the small cove, there was also…a warmth? A fierceness? If there had been a bonfire anywhere in the immediate vicinity, Deborah would have assumed the child to have called on that element, as well, but it wasn't here. There was the feeling of warmth…and justice? The fierceness, yes, the resolution, the surety. An utter confidence, and a feeling of protectiveness, like a lioness…Someone was watching over this child. Someone was hear with him. Someone who felt of Fire and had a heart like a lion…

"Faye?" Deborah called out into the darkness, feeling slightly ridiculous, as she came forward to pick up the baby. She looked around, but could see no physical sign of the golden-eyed woman. When she said the name, the baby looked up, gave another of those pealing chuckles, and his gray eyes shone. Deborah shook her head slowly, clutched the baby to her chest, and climbed up the beach again.

********************

The waiting room was cold, sterile, smelled of careless efficiency. Adam hated it.

He could see pictures through his mind, snapshots of their lives together. Cassie on the beach, that first time they had met. Her being so effortlessly good, without meaning to do anything other than help him. A pure, gentle golden creature, like a forest nymph, playing with flowers in the grass and noticing all of their beauty. Cassie at the dance, a new kind of girl, silvery, seductive, a witch in every meaning of the word. Cassie after the fight with Black John, the too-loose shift tumbling every which way around her, yet still making her look proud and regal as she stood up to her father and destroyed him. When she had graduated from college, the navy gown turning her eyes a blue as mysterious as the deep oceans, feeling her newfound freedom in the world around her. Cassie on their wedding day, a vision of purity and loveliness in a medieval cream silk dress, her blue eyes shining with wonder and love.

Adam ran his hands through his already tousled hair, worrying his eyes and squeezing his hands hard enough to break them. He stood up. If he sat here much longer waiting for news, he'd kill himself. He'd go see the baby.

His son, some name or another. Lying in the incubator, his eyes open and watching all that was around him. Adam couldn't bring himself to fill out the certificate, not with Cassie lying somewhere on the brink of life and death. One thing he knew. If Cassie did die, he would name the boy after her. Cass Conant. It was...she was a part of his heart and soul, and this baby was half of both of them, so it would only be right. He could do nothing else, even if the Powers had told him differently. But he couldn't bear to think of that, of anything relating to death, right now, even though it surrounded and engulfed him.

The baby's hair was reddish-orange, a color like rust, and Adam knew it would stay that way. The eyes, when they were open, were a dark blue-gray, solid like hematite under blue lighting. His skin, though, was as fair as his mothers', and he had her more delicate profile, her nose, her mouth. He reached a hand towards the incubator, as if he could touch the baby. He could have held him, but right now, he didn't really want to. He went back out to the waiting room.

What if the baby died, too? But he couldn't let himself think about that. They would live, they both would, and he would take them home, and they would all be healthy, happy. Except Adam was sure he'd never get over this, ever. Whoever did this would have to pay. He'd kill them for what they'd done to his wife, to his soulmate, to his family.

"Mr. Conant?" A firm but warm voice roused him from his racking self-pity.

"Yes?" Adam answered, miserable and looking like it.

The young doctor almost looked like a student, but with a gentle air of assurance about him. He took both of Adam's hands and grasped them. "Mr. Conant, she's...stable. Unconscious, but stable. She can breathe on her own, but we have her on IV, to make up for the lost fluids....she's needed several transfusions; she lost a lot of blood. But, for the moment, she seems to be doing fine." All of a sudden Adam could breathe again.

"She's...okay?" The idea was still dizzying. "She's really going to be okay?" The doctor sighed. He looked like a newscaster waiting to announce the damage total of some major catastrophe, and all of the payoff would be made in Adam's sanity.

"I can't promise, sir. It's iffy, right now. No one knows what she might do. But for now, she's stable, patched up, and if you want, you can see her." Adam nodded. Chance was good, it made this whole thing more believable. If he could keep a grip on that fact, that there was chance either way, he could stay calm. He asked where she was, and the doctor pointed Adam towards a section of the emergency room, back in the corner.

Tubes and wires were sticking out all over her small body. She had always looked so fragile to him. The bruises on her face were a dark purple, and she looked so lost and alone. Her hair tumbled off her face, some strands with dried blood on them. Adam sat there, in the chair besides the bed, and willed her to come back. Her eyes were closed, but he could see the tremors of her eyes moving around inside, as if she were having a nightmare, or maybe trying to find her way in the dark. She was so small. Her hand didn't look any bigger than that of the child's in the crib in that other room. He picked up her hand gently, as if testing it to see if it would break. When it didn't, he grasped it as he had been squeezing his own fingers these past hours, trying to make the two of them into person so they could never be separated, not even by death. Her fingers were cold, he noted absently. Her hand shook. A tear started in his eye, and suddenly, he couldn't breathe.

_Cassie_, he called, with a gentle string of power. _Cassie, come back to me. _He was crying now, tears rolling down his cheeks, begging her, in all ways but the one she could hear, to stay with him. _Cassie. It's Adam, come back._

He heard a waving mental whisper, barely there. _Adam?_

He nearly died of relief and shock. _Yes, Cassie. It's Adam. Come back. Come back._

Her prone form on the bed wavered, as if she were trying to make up her mind. Her eyes clenched, her hand moved, she inhaled, and then her eyes wavered open. She looked around, confused.

_Cassie. _He thought, speechless in his wonder. All he could do was hold her hand to his mouth, never wanting to let her go, not ever again. He wanted to make her eyes shine again, and he would not leave her side until she got past all of this. She would heal, someday, and he would help her. He could only help her, because he loved her more than life itself. There was nothing else he could do. Cassie sighed, and weakly tried to lift her hand. Adam grabbed it and squeezed, firmly.

_Adam?_ Her power was weak, drifting, confused.

__

Yes, love?

Name him Joy.

And she relaxed, her eyes closing again in gentle sleep.

********************

What happened next was fun for all concerned. Faye and Doug decided to come up for Yule after all, and it was certainly understandable why the coven didn't feel like partying, but they couldn't very well tell them to leave. Diana hadn't left the house ever since she had made camp there, the night they had discovered Cassie. Adam was much the same, except he was at the hospital, waiting by her bedside. It was whispered that Diana might have gone to see Cassie as well, except no one had seen her leave, and Chris wasn't volunteering anything. No one else had gone to see her, as the tension level was highly uncomfortable, and Adam said communication was still diminished to 'one blink for yes, two blinks for no' sort of thing. He never told anyone about the mental bond.

Deborah herself, since she had been third most affected by the tragedy, received the regrettable joy of telling Faye and Doug exactly what _had_ happened. When Faye had called her cousin and was subsequently hung up on, she had come roaring to the first person she saw for answers.

"Deborah!"

Deborah winced. She wished _she_ still had the strength to bellow like that.

"I want some _fucking_ answers. My cousin has been bugging me to come down here for two months, and when I get down here, I find I can't even talk to her. Care to explain this to me? All I've heard so far is something happened to Cassie, Adam's with her, and Diana's with herself."

Deborah sighed and licked her lips. "No, I don't think you'd like to know."

"Like to know, hell. Deborah, if you don't tell me in ten second exactly what happened here two days ago, I am going to use a little strategy that, if considered in court, would be 'under duress'." Faye tossed back her mane of black hair, her yellow eyes snapping. Doug, just behind her, had a face like a chiseled rock might have--utterly impassionate.

"Under Duress?" Deborah asked, shrugging weakly. Faye growled.

"Don't you dare play stupid, Deb. Under Duress, as in, your arm under the car battery."

Deborah was stonily silent. Faye had the feeling that the answers were there, deep down inside, but kept under a hard shell. Try as she might, Faye couldn't puncture the surface layer. She needed something to set Deborah off, to make her, in essence, snap.

"Fine." Faye said. "I suppose I should just go over to my now pregnant, divorced, cousin, and make her tell me something about what happened. Of course, I suppose it wouldn't be good for her, emotionally, but..."

"Don't do it." Deborah said, sounding as if the words were cracked with strain. "She can't take it. None of us can take it. And she's pregnant, too, that's a worse thing..." Faye's suspicions grew and narrowed. Something to do with the baby, perhaps? The tension in the air grew palpable and strong, and the look in both of their eyes reflected a hungry lioness running a wildebeest down. That desperation, nothing to do, nowhere to go...Faye gathered herself and tried to assume a position of calm.

"Just tell me, Deborah. You know it can't be good for you, festering inside you this long." Deborah flinched. For some reason, this made Faye think of the death shudders of a trapped animal. "It'll _kill _you..."

Deborah snapped. It happened so suddenly that Faye's brain edited in sound effects--the crack of a dry twig, the twist of an elegant predator's head, the _spring_...

"Sure it will kill me." Deborah said, the words speeding up, tripping on top of each other, spilling out of her mouth with an almost supernatural cadence. "Rotting inside. Hey, why not? It almost killed Adam, finding Cassie on the beach, gutted open like some _slaughtered_ animal. And Diana too, who saw it just before him and tried to keep him away. Nobody thought about keeping us away, me and Suzan. Heck, no. We just saved the day, me and Suzie, me laying on protection spells _I_ barely knew how to use, praying they would work. And then, I get to go find the baby, washed up on the sand like garbage. Lucky kid, huh? We're all _so_ lucky. So _fucking_ lucky."

Saying it all again made Deborah's teeth automatically clench and her hands ball into fists. Faye, whose vision had temporarily blacked out, didn't see it.

"Deborah…my god." Faye said in wonderment, who lost her composure about as rarely as Deborah did. "I'm so sorry, Deb. I didn't know..."

"If any of us had known" Deborah said bitingly, "don't you think we would have kept her off the beach that night? Don't you think we would have hunted down the sonofabitch who should be _dead_ now? Who would be, if I had gotten my hands on him! Don't you think..."

"Oh, Deborah." Faye had said, looking into her eyes with an expression Deborah had never seen before. She really does look like Diana, inside, Deborah thought. A faceted reflection, because in those eyes, Deborah could see caring, and pity.

"Deborah, it's not your fault." Which summed it all up perfectly, really, as the two women hugged like they might never see each other again.

********************

All of the circle minus the hospital case were gathered for a very tense evening in the living room of number 9. It was decided that number 9 was the optimum place to gather, since then they could be virtually sure that Diana and Adam would attend.

However, even though Faye had gotten through to talk to Diana and had reported that Diana had _said_ she would come, Diana hadn't shown up yet, and Adam had phoned to say when he was done with his nightly vigil, he might come down to visit. Not in so many words, but it was interpreted as such. Hence, there were four rather unhappy people in the room. Faye; who anxiously (as anxious as Faye ever became, anyway) wished Diana were here. Doug: who liked Faye sitting on his lap but wished he were somewhere else. Chris; who was spilling his guts about feeling like a jerk and wished he were _anywhere_ else, and Melanie; who had a wistful look on her face and wished she was back in Europe. Everyone else was attacking the refreshment table that Adam had known nothing about, trying to find conversational topics besides the obvious.

"And then," Chris blathered on, "she said she was pregnant, and I just didn't know what to do. So now she hasn't left the house in a week, and I don't know what to _say_, and I just feel like some first-class ass-wipe, you know?"

"Yes, Chris." Faye said absently. "You treated my cousin like a dog toy and I'm going to hex you. Be a good boy and whimper."

"Really, Chris," Doug said, surveying the room behind his shades, "Diana will get over it. She said she wanted to get divorced, right? Meaning the kid doesn't bother her. So you didn't do anything wrong."

"I know that." Chris moaned. "But I feel like I can't talk to her anymore."

"You can't." Doug advised. "Or shouldn't. Here, she just saw her best friend get sliced open and the baby abandoned. Hell, she's probably terrified. Not the best position to try to mend bridges in, you know? Just go to sleep, and when you wake up, it'll all have blown over."

"But I'll feel like such a _jerk_," Chris said.

"You will be a jerk." Faye smirked. "But I think it ranks far higher than going over to her house and saying; 'Di, hon, sorry I knocked you up and left you, but do you want to talk about what happened to Cassie?' She'd _murder_ you. That is, if that wasn't already obvious."

Chris just put his head in his hands and moaned.

Meanwhile, Laurel was looking studiously at the punch bowl, since Nick had just walked into the room and was looking for someone to talk to. After a bit of weaving, he found Melanie and started quizzing her about Europe, and Laurel went away to talk to Suzan, much relived.

Just as Nick and Melanie were getting into a really heated discussion about who _did_ have the best skiing in Europe, Adam walked in through the double doors. Everyone paused and turned their eyes to him. Doug got up and stood by his side, whispered something. Adam nodded tersely. He looked lost, and alone and scared. But he still had his considerable amount of pride, which made him turn around and start asking Nick about Switzerland. Nick didn't mind, and Melanie went back to daydreaming, after putting an arm around him and asking him how Cassie was. Adam said she was the same as always: stable.

At that point, Nick forgot all about Switzerland, and asked what had happened to Cassie. Adam tensed, and would only say that there had been an accident. When Nick pressed Adam for details, Adam left the room, and Nick followed him, tactlessness displaying itself in his stride.

It was about fifteen minutes after that when Diana showed up. It shut up everyone in the room, and Laurel ran over to Diana's side. Diana detached herself and left the room, Laurel right behind her. Two minutes later, Diana came back, Adam and Nick in tow, who were both looking grim. Diana, instead of looking like her now-usual 'life has just kicked me over and left me to die' stance, she now was walking like...well, it looked like she had told Nick and Adam off. She looked like the old Diana: angry and insulted that there was so much evil in the world, and determined to keep on fighting. She took that look right over to the refreshment table where she got some soda, and took it right back over to the couch where she started vigorously complaining to Laurel, who had just walked back and found Diana much changed.

"...And I can't _believe_ he said that to Adam. Sometimes Nick just doesn't _think_. I mean, I _know_ he cares about her, we all care about her, but that is no reason to put poor Adam through hell."

Having come over quietly to sit next to Diana, Faye lightly cleared her throat.

"Oh, Faye! You did come!" Diana said, her eyes lightening. "I'm sorry, I didn't get to talk to you before. Why didn't you come and see me?"

"There was that small obstruction that you refused to let anyone in the house..." Faye said.

Diana just stared off into the distance. Faye made a gesture with her head, and Laurel made herself scarce.

"Diana, you have always been the strongest person I know. Why are you doing this to yourself?"

Diana shook her head, unwilling to implement a response.

"I can't believe that just seeing...it, affected you that badly. What was really going through your head?" Faye asked. Diana still refused to answer.

"You know," Faye said, "that when you want to talk about it, I'll still be here. I'm bored, Diana. Chris has been over there complaining about losing you all night."

This had earned her a startled glance.

"What?" Faye asked. "Does this have anything to do with Chris? I think not. This has to do with finding Cassie almost killed on the beach, right? You couldn't take the violence. That was why you hid yourself in the house for three days, never opening the door or calling anyone..."

"Don't be ridiculous!" Diana said. "That wasn't it at all. I've seen violence before, Faye. Yes, it's different this time because it was Cassie. Yes, it tore my heart out. Yes, it makes me sick, but it doesn't make me want to hide."

"Than what was it?" Faye asked. "Deborah's seen violence before too. She orders her steaks bloody. You know who she hung out with in seventh grade as well as I do. But when I tried to talk to her about...the accident, she nearly went ballistic. How about you?"

"It wasn't...Cassie." Diana said, and shuddered. "It was the...other thing." Faye was alarmed, tried to hide it. Showing Diana fear would not be a good thing now.

"What other thing?" she asked.

"Cassie mentioned this black...thing. This energy. And Laurel talked about it, too. That it made them feel completely, totally lonely. I thought...for awhile, that I might have felt it, too. The first night, when Chris told me he was leaving, I got this stab of loneliness. It wasn't like, feeling unloved, or anything like that. This was like the feeling of someone who'd lost her family, friends, house, town, planet. Someone who felt so devastatingly alone that she couldn't stand it. Like she gave that emotion to me."

"You say 'she'." Faye remarked. "Why?"

"Because it feels female. Like the energy of Black John felt malicious, this energy feels lonely, and female." Faye nodded.

"So why did you shut yourself up in the house again?" she asked.

"Because I was _scared_." Diana said. She rubbed her arms, hard. "I don't know if it's the same energy, changing or what, but I felt malicious energy that night, when we found Cassie. And after that, I felt it every day. Until now. I didn't want go anywhere, in case..."

"In case it would get you." Faye said. Diana nodded.

"But not quite, actually.'" She said. "More, it seemed like the energy was out to get something _inside_ me." Diana said. "I was almost paranoid at the time, but it seemed like the energy wanted..."

"Wanted your baby?" Faye asked. She closed her eyes and felt dizzy. _And Cassie had been cut open, and the baby left on the beach..._

"I know that seems crazy, but I felt like the energy was out to get me next..."

"It doesn't," Faye said, "sound crazy at all. No one could find the attacker, and she was on the beach, on the far side of an island, with only one of us within any plausible distance. That one person being her husband, which I think closes down that avenue..."

"But even the dark energy needed a body to inhabit." Diana said. "Wouldn't this need a body, too?" Faye shrugged, her golden eyes hooded.

"Maybe," Faye said, "by nearly killing Cassie, a body is what it's looking for."

Diana sobered at that, and sank inside herself again. Faye realized it, and also knew at the same time that there was something she had to do. She had to get a look at where Cassie had been attacked. She walked over to Nick, and it wasn't hard to convince him to go talk to Diana. Chris bristled. Doug looked at Faye coolly, and she knew she didn't have to tell him anything. With some word she didn't hear, Doug involved Chris in a conversation, getting him to take his eyes off Diana.

Just before leaving the room, Faye looked back. Diana had moved very close to Nick, and though only the most diligent observer could tell--maybe Cassie, if she had been here--Diana was crying in his arms.


	7. Chapter Six

Faye took a deep, steadying breath as she walked down the beach. The sand glittered like an expanse of eyes. The ocean whispered like a thousand voices. Faye glanced up at the darkened sky, noting it's cloudiness, it's moisture. Like the world was preparing to cry for the fate of Cassandra Blake.

The air was sharp and pure, and the absence of any smells was almost a smell in itself, like that of hickory smoke, sharp and biting. It seemed pure here, because it looked clean, because it smelled so, too. But this beach covered up so many secrets. So many ancient things that others would never know.

Faye remembered, so many years ago, when she had looked down from the point of the headland on Cassie, scurrying in the sand to find the crystal skull. So intoxicating, power, even power over a little white mouse. The golden last rays of sun turning her changing hair tawny, and then Cassie holding onto it feebly, as if something as weak as determination could have stopped her then. No, Faye knew she had always needed to be taught the hard way. There would be no other way for her.

The initiations had been done on this beach--Faye had been number five. It was Diana, with Melanie, and then Adam, and then Laurel, and then Faye, who had brought to the baby circle the flip side of the coin. The power of the darkness, the side of everything hidden and mysterious, though not necessarily evil, although so what if it was? What in the world was totally pure, and totally powerful?

_Sky and Sea keep harm from me; earth and fire bring my desire. _It sang in Faye's brain, an old, intoxicating rhythm that built power and begged to be added on. Fire, Faye knew, that was what was needed here. For uncovering secrets, and for burning away lies. Faye took a book of matches out of her pocket and lit one, and stared at the flame in the center.

__

Wishes to spark the fire within,

Desire to light the hidden core,

Catch and burn, lies consuming,

Revealing truth forevermore.

For bright is the lamp

And dark is the past

And secrets must be revealed at last.

Suddenly, it was as if the whole beach caught fire, as if it were suddenly thrown into the light of day. The flash printed itself on her retinas, and she wasn't quite sure whether she was standing straight anymore. She turned, and saw the stars, and the world fell away.

When she came to, she realized that it could have been seconds later, or hours. No, that wasn't quite correct—it wasn't as if she were confused by the true passage of time. It was more like time had melded all into one big stream. Like the passage of minutes, seconds, hour and days no longer needed to be defined. They simply were. Time was fluid. Whereas before she had always been walking down a road, now she was swimming in an ocean. With the same primal intuition, Faye realized that she no longer had a body. Wherever it was at the moment was just not important. What was important was to find Cassie in this workable stream of time and consciousness, find her before…something happened. Something that should never happen to anyone.

Faye drifted through the levels of this time-place, pulling back the many layers as if they were mica. She hit the one she was looking for almost on accident…she turned around and felt the tug on her heart, as if she had been caught by a fishing line. Her mind leaped, and all of a sudden she was on a road again. Granted, it was a strange and contrary kind of road, but at least it was a road, linear, something her mortal brain could work with. Behind her, she could see her body, lying on the bluff. That was a good enough place for it, for now. What was important was the mission, and she could see that before her, clear as anything. About a week in the past walked Cassie, her nightgown billowing out around her, down the beach. Faye tracked her like a shadow.

_Without warning, her stomach fluttered. Then he kicked, once. It hurt, a little, but it wasn't too bad. She kept walking. Then, with a tenderness that made her gasp, she felt a slight mental touch, as if the baby were trying to tell her something. She listened, intently, her ears seeming to echo in the silence, and then moved on._

Faye almost fainted. She could _hear_ that baby, feel his emotions, his broadcasting stream at trying to get Cassie to stay away, go back to the house. That was one smart kid. Faye could feel baby Conant's mind, like trailing her fingers over braille lettering, and knew that he felt terror. He understood what waited down the beach: a dark force that was lonely, isolated, dangerous. It posed him danger, and he could do what every child did in the face of danger: attempt to scream and run like hell. That had been why he had kicked Cassie, trying to turn her around, get her to go back. Feelings, not words yet, but some words could come close.

_No, mom. It's bad there, veryverybad. Go back. Go back. Please go back._

_She stopped again for a second, looked around at the wind and thrashing surf. The weather in discord, but somehow still in an eerie state of calm. As if waiting, and protesting what was to come. The mental voice inside her head, made up of feelings too new to form words, knew there was pain ahead. The flash of words was like gentle fingers in her mind, gone before she could really sense it. But she was lonely. She had to go on, had to go walking. Keep going, Cassie. The voice was quiet._

She couldn't hear it. She couldn't hear her own child screaming at her to get the hell out of there, or maybe this voice, this lonely voice that smelled of seaweed and jealousy, was blocking her from hearing it. Either way, Faye watched her continue down the beach, not turning around. She walked like a person hypnotized, staring off into the sky, or perhaps into nothingness.

As she approached the white circle of stones on the beach, the surveyor's markings for where the structure would be, the wood monoliths like sentinels in the darkness, Faye could feel the taint of corruption there. Something, Someone, had moved into the Sanctuary. Or if not actually living inside its sacrosanct boundaries, just at the outside, like a pedophile peeking around the corner of a children's daycare. There was a spiritual identity to it as well, one that Faye could identify and feel, that made her knees weak and her heart jump. This force was somehow kin to Black John.

Cassie walked into the Sanctuary, feeling, it seemed, for some insane reason, completely alone. She couldn't see, or was being prevented from seeing, the seething stew of malevolent forces that congregated just inches from her. She was forced to part them, to push through them even, to get into the Sanctuary ground itself, and Faye again could hear baby Conant cry and scream, unheard. He knew these forces, perhaps from lives before, or instincts that would be forgotten once he was born and possessed a consciousness that was entirely his own.

These forces were fully visible to Faye, though, as they couldn't be to the baby and apparently weren't to the mother. Red and Black, like demons, the colors of old blood, the spirits piled around the outside of the Sanctuary, polluting its' aura with their presence and keeping Cassandra inside. They were sentinels, they were heralds, they were hellhounds, these forces. They signaled the coming of something twisted and darker, someone that manipulated emotions and toyed with feelings, working in the shadows because she had never known any other way, and also because she enjoyed it. The darkness that the heralds were signaling was coming together and coalescing, and all of a sudden Faye could see its representative. The enemy, the Darkest Bride.

It was a young woman, no older than twenty, dressed in the somber colors and hemlines of puritan clothing. Black was this girl's chosen color, and the white cuffs about the wrists were thin and lacy, not blockish and devoid of decoration as the etchings of the time showed they ought to be. The dark colors suited her though, since her face was framed by light. Her hair was colored of moonlight and sunlight, Faye knew, because in the darkness it was a stark white, like Diana's. The eyes gleamed like jewels in the darkness, and they were like Faye's own.

But where there was darkness, there must be light. The two must be represented in equal numbers for any match between them to be fair and unarguable. Though the demons hissed as she came into being, though this place that had seconds before been claimed by darkness protested with every unnatural thread, the representative of the light came as well. This girl appeared to be about the same age as the bride, but with a much more serene, modest face. Her eyes were like Cassie's, a wildflower blue. This girl must actually be some sort of ancestor, because the hair looked like Cassie's as well, hued of many different browns and changing in the moonlight. Her cuffs were the traditional kind, and her dress was a medium blue.

And all the while, Cassie stood in the sanctuary, totally unaware of the battle that was about to take place.

"Who is she?" The girl with Diana's hair asked, gesturing at Faye, who stood outside the Sanctuary by ten yards.

"A friend." Jacinth said, smiling enigmatically. "She may stay. Approach, guardian."

Faye was wise enough not to ask any questions. She did as she was told and came forward. Jacinth put out her hand to receive Faye's, and Faye allowed this. Jacinth's hand felt cool, but insubstantial. Like a very thick fog.

"She cannot be a guardian." Kate protested, looking at Faye in a way that made Faye's bones shiver. "She is not of the proper ilk." And what the hell did that mean, Faye wondered. She noticed a weird clenching feeling in her stomach, and had almost the feeling of a voice in the back of her head, as if someone were trying to tell her something…

"She may guard in this time and place." Jacinth rebutted smoothly, turning back to Kate after also giving Faye the once-over. "She is of the blood, and I am allowed to appoint my replacement, no matter her ilk." Faye felt fairly sure Jacinth was bluffing on that one, but she didn't say anything. If Faye couldn't guard, whatever that entailed, Cassie was in some serious trouble soon.

Kate nodded once, grudgingly, at the legality of this. "Her claim is valid, then."

"As your claim is not." Jacinth said, resoundingly, bitingly.

"What is that supposed to mean?" Kate asked, in a thoroughly offended voice.

"You come here for a claim on Cassandra's child. And it is not valid." Jacinth replied breezily.

"Of course it is valid!" Kate hissed. "The blood is mine, back through the centuries."

"It is not. There are two ties to this child. You hold only one. You never held the other." Faye got the feeling that a facedown was happening, a sheer claim of wills. But Jacinth was continuing. "The other is mine to hold, as Guardian, blood and kin relation. You cannot touch him."

The golden eyes flared, with that particular brand and rebellious determination that Faye recognized so well—it had happened so often to her. Faye felt incongruously close to Kate, like she could almost read the blonde girl's thoughts. Not surprising…she would have been her ancestor, after all. But Faye was sure, for some reason, that Kate's bargaining strategy would be almost identical to her own. Bluff them down until they have nothing left. But the knowledge aspect of this battle had already been decided: Jacinth had more blood ties to Cassie's child than Kate did. Time for plan B.

"As a blood ancestor, I have a right to win the child by combat." Kate said slyly.

"So you have." Jacinth said coolly, with a gesture. "I invite you to try."

A raised eyebrow from Kate. "Then who will be my competition? Surely not you, most holy cousin." And she gave a mocking curtsey. But Jacinth merely shook her head.

"No. Faye Chamberlain stands in the stead of the Guardian. She will be your combatant."

A panicked look for just a second from Kate's direction that quickly melted into a mellow laugh.

"You must be joking. Fight a mortal? It would be _unfair_." And her laugh was a rich, wry chuckle like her own. Faye noted. Nothing like Diana's laugh, like old silver bells.

"It's as fair as your claim." Jacinth said succinctly. Kate colored again at this, but seemed to ignore it for the most point. Then her face changed, like the face of a lawyer who suddenly has had an inspiration in how to question the opposition and is about to move in for the kill.

"Does she know what she does? Has she been initiated?" Kate asked, silkily, going along for the ride. "She can only be a guardian of flesh." Which surprised Faye, because that seemed as if Kate actually knew something…Faye had thought Kate was pulling most of this out of thin air. Possibly not.

"You were always the master of flesh, cousin." Jacinth said, in a saccharine-sweet voice, and Faye watched those golden eyes darken in a way the she knew mean utter absolute anger. "And anyway, why do you care? That's all you need to fight. She never will be initiated. The guardian of time is…unavailable. Faye Chamberlain comes in her stead." And at that point Jacinth quickly changed tacks, hoping, Faye thought, to catch Kate off-guard. "Why do you want the child, anyway, cousin? You died three hundred years hence, and your sorrow ought to have died with you. Why bother your descendants? Why attempt to steal their children?"

A bitter laugh. "Like I would tell you. More people than the Guardian have a right to the children, saint. The present coven's children are my descendants as much as they are yours. More, even. At least I _had _children." Jacinth ignored that attempted barb.

"There are other children you could lay a claim to, if you're so anxious for one." Jacinth said, and her eyes dissolved for a moment into pools of deepest black.

Incensed rage passed for a second on Kate's face. "But I don't want _those _ones."

Jacinth's still face was all that was needed to proclaim her opinion of _that_ rebuttal.

"You will not be rid of me so easily, cousin. I have a right to a combat."

"So you have. If you wish one at all, it will be with this mortal, this woman witch."

"But that's so unfair." Kate said, smooth as silk. "She should know what she stands against, should she not? Do I get to tell her?"

And at this point, Faye was very interested. Alas…

"She stands in stead for the Guardian. She knows the risks to her person." Jacinth replied calmly, her eyes meeting Faye's. Faye, who most certainly did _not_ know the risks, was nonetheless no little white mouse. She nodded slightly. She would fight. She was certainly stronger than Cassie, who was innocent of this whole drama and lumbering around like an overworked draft horse besides.

Kate's eyes narrowed. "Very well. I choose the ground. It shall be just outside the circle. And _when_ I win, I get my prize."

What she might want to do with her prize put a sickening dread in Faye's heart. As innocent as Cassie was, her child was even more. He had done nothing to earn such a fate.

Faye wasn't quite sure where she had to stand or what she had to do, but she assumed Jacinth would enlighten her if she did anything horrendously wrong. Except to lose this contest, of course, and Faye was fairly certain she'd know if that happened, whatever strange sequence of events that prescribed.

Faye simply remained standing just outside the circle that was the Sanctuary. It was interesting, certainly, to be standing two feet from an apparently zombified Cassandra, but Faye could deal with it. A few moments later, the evil phantasm, the ghost, whatever she was, moved to stand just in front of her. Five feet away, she had been unnerving. Face-to-face, she was downright creepy, and Faye was used to unnerving people. She dealt with it all the time in the mirror. But those golden eyes had a core to them, a core that had been hideously and deeply damaged. Calculating, cold, cruel and impatient, Faye imagined they could just as easily strangle a kitten, or watch one being killed, and not be moved to do the slightest thing in the innocent animal's defense. Faye locked those eyes stare-for-stare, but had to consciously keep her mind from showing her horrible images. Maybe she imagined it, but Faye thought for a second that she saw a lightening in those grim golden eyes, a lightening that could mean respect, or maybe disdain.

"_En garde_," Kate whispered, and in two seconds Faye had been knocked to the side and was laying in the sand. The knock had been rough and jarred her a little, but as soon as Faye had realized she had been hit, she closed her eyes and took a rapid mental inventory while she waited for her balance to recover. Unlike Cassie, Faye had been in plenty of fights growing up, and due to this useful tactic, was up like a shot about a second after she was knocked to the ground. What she saw, however, she wished she hadn't seen.

Kate had a hideous leer on her face, and Cassie, or rather Cassie's body, was laying on the ground face-up. Her stomach had been sliced open, a jagged wound that was pumping blood, even now beginning to slow. Blood sprayed Kate's golden face and hair, and Cassie was covered in it. It was a horrible scene—not a kill of grace and glory, like a lioness taking down prey, but a jackal worrying at the foot of an wildebeast till it fell, exhausted, to the ground. There was no honor in this kill. And there was no honor in holding this prize.

Kate held the baby tucked into her arms, but it was a difficult maneuver. Baby Conant was determined not to stay still, beating at the phantasmal arms as well as he could, crying not managing to make any noise, whooping continuously. Kate grinned at her conquest, and bit through the lax umbilical cord. Baby Conant's whoops of terror finally began to turn to shrieks.

"Over my dead body," Faye muttered, and leaped. She went straight for Kate's back, her hands poised over the throat, concentrating on a sheer push of raw force, a pounding of gigantic proportions, anything to make her drop the baby and run. Kate had been gloating so in her win that she never thought a mere mortal would be of any real consequence, but she had been wrong. Faye fingers dug viciously into the phantasmal white throat, and Faye could feel all the muscles constrict. Kate wheezed and her hands flew to her throat, letting Baby Conant roll out onto the sand. Faye ignored him for a minute and called on Fire for all she was worth; thought of the contrast of smoke and bright leaping flame, and pushed with her mind. Kate screamed in agony and Faye grit her teeth, trying desperately to hold on to the phantasm and concentrate on calling the element at the same time. It was harder than it looked.

Jacinth was faster than a rabbit, grabbing the baby the instant he was let go and holding him close. It didn't help, however. Kate managed to get away from Faye with a duck and a twist, and she rounded on Jacinth, who held her much-sought prize. Faye was picking her self up from the dirt again, and of the three of them, Jacinth, obviously, was the only one close to looking anything presentable, but her face was far away and cold. If Faye had been Kate, she would have been getting the hell away from that face. But Kate held her ground, bloody but unbowed, and Jacinth simply laughed.

"You dare, cousin?" Asked the phantasmal voice. And suddenly Faye's arms were full of baby, while Jacinth and Kate faced off for a minute and then combined into a seethingly violent force that was the essence of combat being waged. Faye had been completely forgotten, for the moment. She looked down at the baby, and then back to Cassie's white, bloody, body. Hell, no. But she couldn't bring him back through…however she had gotten here. She took him down to the water's edge, instead. It would be good to wash this blood off of him, at least, and according to legend, Romulus and Remus had washed ashore and lived just fine. Of course, they had been found by a she-wolf.

Faye finished dipping the baby in the slightly chilly nighttime ocean water. She attempted to dry him with some of her clothes, but found that the material was just as phantasmal as the rest of her. She studied the child, who was calm now if not happy, and wondered what to do with him. Well, but there was no other choice. It simply wouldn't be possible to go up to Crowhaven Road, open a door and slip him into a bed. If her clothes didn't work as material things a week in the past, she doubted her fingers would either.

Faye cast a cautious, hunting look to the area further up the beach where the storm that looked liked nothing less than a miniature tornado was still seething. If either of them cared that Faye held the child now, they certainly weren't showing it. And she should as well want it that way, right? The newborn in her arms sneezed as the chill of the night and the ocean water remaining on his skin got to him, and Faye's attention was instantly drawn away. Calling some slight amount on Fire, she warmed her phantasmal skin and held the child close to her, and though she couldn't imagine it felt like anything other than being caught in a warm wind, he seemed to take comfort from it. That was as least a relief. But where could she hide him until people came to find Cassandra? True, he was Adam and Cassandra's child, and he probably had more Power to draw on than several club members put together, but if he couldn't live through this night it would worth nothing.

Well, but they weren't without help, were they? Jacinth had spoken of a guardian, of someone somehow appointed to watch over them, or maybe just to watch over the children. Because Faye couldn't imagine that Cassie's child was the end of this. If Diana had been scared, Faye highly doubted Kate was the type to only take just one. Diana would be next…Faye could feel it in her bones. But what had been that whole mess about Faye not being of the proper ilk? What the hell was the proper ilk, anyway? What did it means to be a guardian of flesh as opposed to a guardian of time? Faye assumed that Jacinth was a guardian of time…since she looked like she came from the puritan times, Faye thought that was a quite natural assumption to draw. But what did that mean for her?

Baby Conant was now dry, to an extent, and fairly well content, or so it seemed, though he stared at her with his curiously open (for a newborn) gray eyes. His hair was like Adam's, though lighter, as if with Cassie's shades of shimmery gold in it. He would be Powerful when he was older, indeed. Faye walked further down the beach, around the cove, and sat there with him on her knees, watching him. On a hunch, she put him on the dry sand.

The baby's face tensed, but his eyes seemed to clear. And then, with a feeling that was unmistakeable in her mind, the earth suddenly became attuned and focused around the two of them. Faye hadn't called on the Powers, yet the earth still felt like it was buzzing beneath her fingers, and with the way the baby laughed, she knew he felt it too.

"Why, you little monster." Faye breathed in no small amount of shock. He was calling on the Earth! As unmistakable an action as when Faye had forced Cassie to do the same on the hill outside New Salem High School so long ago, and with the Fire in the old science building. He knew how to call and manipulate the Powers, only hours old, and he was doing it as if they were merely his old friends who had come to visit. This was incredible. Had Faye been able to call on Fire when she was this young? Had it scared her parents as much as it scared her with this child now?

At that moment, she heard from far away and through the wind the sound of sirens on the bluff. Faye waited patiently. Soon enough, people, real people who existed in this time and place, would be in the area. She was a little surprised at who she saw, however.

It was Deborah who a short while later rounded the cove and came face-to-face with Faye and the child. Of course, she couldn't see Faye, but she scooped up the baby immediately, cradling him protectively, and looked to run up the beach. But before she did, she turned and glanced over the area where Faye and the baby had been sitting.

"Faye?" Deborah asked, out into the air. Phantasmal Faye was shocked and stunned. How did she know? But Faye did not make a single move, just stood precisely where she was, and though Deborah squinted, Faye felt fairly certain she couldn't see a thing. Deborah finally turned and went up the beach, and Faye rounded the cove some minutes later, where she came face-to-face with Jacinth.

"Is she gone?" Faye asked, her nerves at about wits' end. She wanted nothing more than to get back to her body and take a hot bath.

"Yes." Jacinth said, and smiled brightly, coming to put her arms around the taller phantasmal girl. "She was banished, but she will be back. You'll need to help Deborah."

"Is Deborah the guardian of time?" Faye asked, wary. She accepted the hug, and all of a sudden, her soul felt a little purged of all the evil she had seen tonight, as if things looked just a shade brighter.

"Yes. And more--but not yet. Soon I will have to go back to her. But you gave to Crowhaven, and to Joy, an incomprehensible gift tonight."

"Is that his name, Joy?" Faye asked of the baby. Jacinth nodded. "He called on the Earth."

"Of course." Jacinth said, smiling. "If the children were not special, we would not have to guard them. You were brave tonight. You'll make a wonderful mother."

And of course, right after that sentence, as Faye's eyes lightened imperceptibly and her eyebrows shot up, ready to demand of Jacinth what exactly she had meant, Jacinth touched Faye on the forehead and Faye was bolted straight back to her body.

********************

Faye lengthened her planned weekend vacation to an unofficial sabbatical, deciding that she would stay and lead the coven with Diana until Cassie came back. Not that there was much leading to be done, what with everyone having declared the Sanctuary off-limits for the time being. Faye suggested exploring the force, trying to find it again, but Diana shivered and nearly went into hysterics. Faye decided Diana didn't need the mental strain.

Faye sighed, working one afternoon with Melanie on some translations of documents, written in German, of the original covens'. They had been found with Deborah's book of Shadows, which had been uncovered three years ago. Most of it seemed to be economic documents, tax records for original crops and the like. Very boring, but something in them might later prove important.

"Melanie," Faye said, "I am about to fall asleep. So you can take these home if you want, but I am off to bed." Melanie smirked.

"Up late last night, Faye?" she asked, with a wicked glint in her eyes.

"Venture not with your mind where the angels fear to tread, Melanie, which includes my sex life." Faye narrowed her eyes at Melanie's slight tummy. "Good morning."

Melanie returned the probing look glare for glare, obviously insulted at Faye's judgement of her own practices, even though she had made just the same assumption only seconds ago. "Get stuffed, Faye." She said, in her classy accent.

"Well." Faye said. "Glad to see some things never change." And walked out. She figured Melanie could find the door, and if she got lost, well, Faye didn't care.

She first wandered down to the kitchen, making some vanilla roasted coffee, black, of course. Oh, she thought, does caffeine stir the soul when nothing else will. Without knowing why she was being so sneaky about it, she went upstairs to one of the many hidden rooms in this house that she remembered from her childhood, before she and Diana had become badly-natured rivals.

It was a very pretty room, she reflected, with small windows letting sunlight in and prisms hanging in them. A tall dresser hid the door from view, so one almost had the feeling of being hidden away somewhere, in a tall, secluded tower where maybe not even a prince would find you. Reflective, giving you a feeling of security, which usually made Faye feel suffocated. Sometimes, however, when you need to just relax and let go, it's good to feel secure.

She removed the magazine she had earlier hidden underneath a trunk. A little crushed, but no permanent damage. The one obsession she had that she would never tell anyone about, not even Doug or Diana, simply because it went so totally against her personality that even she didn't understand the yearning of it. If the subject ever came up, well then, she would move her way around it decorously as always. Luckily, it had not yet come up.

Faye opened up the latest issue of Wear for Tots and Toddlers, looking at the adorable pictures of the children. She never did it for long, simply because there was a danger that she might start crying, which she tried to avoid as much as humanly possible.

_Oh_. There was one she hadn't seen before. A little darling that struck a chord of longing in her heart. It could have been their child, Faye thought. With soft, thick, black hair, and wide blue eyes. Pale skin, a half-shade up from her own golden tones. Of course, the Gymboree uniform was tacky, that would have to go, but on the whole, the child was so beautiful it almost hurt. Completely without prior warning, tears, the one thing she had been trying to avoid, rolled down her cheeks. Faye tossed the magazine away as if it were a poisonous snake, and tried to regain her composure.

It would never work, Faye knew. She would have that picture in her head for the rest of the day, perhaps for the rest of her life. She needed to get away, go back to Boston, away from Cassie who had a baby, Diana who was going to, Suzan who was going to, Melanie who was going to, Laurel who had a toddler and made Faye feel like an old maid...it was simply vexing.

The problem, Faye reflected, was that to get something you have to give something. Faye had never liked giving, or feeling trapped doing one thing, even being with one person. That was the root of it, she supposed. The problem behind why she had never married Doug, why the thought of having a child was both dear and terrifying at the same time. She thought she loved Doug. He was at least better than any other guy she had tried to shove around, simply because Doug could shove back. He had never tried to _change_ her, and neither did he submit willingly.

Either side of the spectrum annoyed her, and she had had plenty of both. Guys who entered the relationship trying to control it, and when they discovered they couldn't use their fists, changed to little mental tricks and tactics, trying to bring her over. Guys who looked at dating Faye as a 'Why me?' thing, and just scurried to her every word, trying to get it over with as fast as possible. Jeremy had been like that.

Doug seemed to share her own philosophy of life, which, simply put, would be 'sit back, hold on, and enjoy the ride.' She was the most herself she could be. Not the best person she could be, which was Diana, but the most _herself_. Everything she said, thought or did, these were one hundred percent Faye Chamberlain. She held herself, and her own philosophies, close and personal. Doug didn't try to change her, and she didn't try to change him. They just enjoyed each other, and that was that. For as long as it lasted. It might seem unpredictable, not knowing exactly why you love a person, just living it day by day, but it had worked for four years so far. Tried and tested, lab approved.

Which was why this whole--_yearning_ for a child, to get married and settled, struck her as a complete surprise. Marriage and a family had never seemed like the sort of thing she _could_ want, and she thought everyone else would see it the same way, given the chance. Which, she reflected, was why she never intended to give them the chance.

Plus, a child would change her. She had no doubt about that. Faye sighed.

__

I'd never be a good mother now, and I don't want to change so I can be one. That's it for me I suppose. Still, maybe someday...she thought, almost wistfully.

She heard pounding on the stairs, that 'seeking' feel that was Doug's mind, searching for her but not calling out. One of the little benefits of a long relationship. She got up, went to the door, hiding the magazine again. She appeared on the stepwell and found Doug staring up at her. She stood on the stair, tall and queenly, waiting for him to come to her. And when he did, his eyes were cloudy with pent-up passion. They kissed, long and hard, and it left Faye a little breathless. When they did draw back, it was as if they were trying to uncover mysteries, bit by bit, in each other's eyes, their gaze guarded and drawn.

"Doug." Faye said, in a voice saturated with something thicker and darker than honey. Blood maybe, or tar. "Where have you been to taste like that, you naughty boy?" His eyes twinkled.

"Maybe I oughta give you an extended sample." He said, and kissed her again. And the world was full of mystery, fire and brimstone, and dark-tasting honey.


	8. Chapter Seven

Two nights later, an event came that before her trip Faye would not have thought worth mentioning. Even without coming back to New Salem temporarily, however long temporarily turned out to be, she probably would not have given it any lipservice at all except for the simple fact that, for some reason, it had scared the living daylights out of her.

It had been in the middle of the night. Faye had a hazy half-remembered image of the red numbers of their digital alarm clock, 3:33. What? She slowly collected the consciousness to wonder blearily why was she even half-awake at three in the morning.

Then she felt it. When she thought about it later, she would remember little things that woke her up to a more alarmed state: the rattling of a shutter, the howling of the wind, Doug tossing and turning a little beside her. But still, she didn't think any of those fairly normal nighttime noises had anything to do with this feeling that was running through her half-asleep brain. They had maybe clarified her head a little, allowing her to recognize that what she was feeling was actually a _feeling_, and not some bizarre physical symptom…

Now that was just strange. Why the hell would she have any kind of symptoms? She wasn't ill.

But it was definitely entirely a mental trait, this, the darkness that she could somehow feel even through the walls of this house, the feeling of being watched, about to be descended upon, like some sort of prey. That, and she could somehow feel the emotions of the huntress, because Faye was all of sudden certain that this person inflicting these feelings was female.

Yes, the huntress was female, and Faye for the first time in her life felt like the hunted, and what was more, the emotions she could feel from this huntress were pitiable: absolute sorrow, crudest jealousy, utter loss. The feelings closed in around her like a net.

_No!_ Faye lashed out mentally. _Go away. I am not for your taking_. Faye understood the power of darkness inside and out: after all, it was part of her nature. She also understood the lioness's inexplicable desire for prey and territory that did not always involve keeping the cubs fed. But as part and parcel she understood the ultimate antithesis of that: Prometheus's gift, Fire. She created the brilliant spark in her mind, the power of creativity and consumption, stronger even than the most fearsome predator, and brandished it at the forces of darkness.

They _ran_.

Feeling satisfied, if not entirely comforted, with her victory, Faye fluffed up her pillow and settled down to go back to sleep. At that point, however, Doug grunted and turned a sleepy, confused face towards her.

"Wha' wuzzat?" He asked.

"Nothing." Faye remarked absently, closing her eyes with no small amount of satisfaction. "All gone now."

Doug really wanted to go back to sleep. Faye could feel it. But all of a sudden his already-tilted eyes narrowed, like he was concentrating. He blinked a few times. So much for sleep, Fate thought…late-night chatting, it seemed. And as for what Doug was thinking…well, he wasn't about to just ignore his instincts: they were _primal_, demanded to be recognized, and besides, his training as a witch and his relationship with Faye had taught him better. "But I felt something."

Faye sighed. "What?"

"Like…it was bright. Hot. Like fire. Was that you? What were you fighting?" A long, questioning pause. "I dreamed about it. She looked like you."

Faye's eyes snapped open. "What? You dreamed about it?" _What was It,_ Faye was forced to wonder. She figured at most it had been a force--nothing conscious or even really deserving of a pronoun.

And now they were both near-totally awake, despite that they had gone to bed only two hours before.

"Yeah." Doug said, his voice confused. "You were in the jungle. There was this cat…white fur and yellow eyes. And she…circled you, and then you took out a torch. And she ran away. She looked like you." Then his face scrunched up again. "That's not right. She was a _cat_…"

"Where were you?" Faye interrupted, startled by the description of the cat. The feeling of someone stalking, of being watched…Doug had caught on to it all, though not directly.

"I was…I wasn't there. I mean, I could see it…but I couldn't feel it. I wasn't allowed." He said, his voice sounding confused again. "Not sure what it means. Besides just, you know, representational."

"Maybe because you're not a woman?" Faye mused.

"That might have been it." Doug said musingly, though in daylight if anyone had made a reference to his not being female, he would have laughed and responded with a smart-ass comment. "There were people in the bushes. I could see Cassie. And I think Diana was with her."

Faye rolled up into a sitting position, her thoughts dark and sped up to past the point of overdrive. "But they were all right, weren't?" She asked, the honeyed voice betraying only the slightest hint of panic. "The cat hadn't hurt them, had she?"

"No. She just…she had claimed them. That was the weirdest thing. They had like, this _mark_…claw marks maybe. And she _wanted_ to mark you, too." Doug's eyes turned up to look at her for a startled second, and then fell again. "But you held fire…she can't stand fire. They killed her with it."

And leaving Faye pondering over that last remark, Doug turned over and went back to sleep. It was only after she thought about it a little, and about that bizarre half-remembered battle on the beach that had been in another time and place, that she began to feel afraid.

********************

In the morning, Doug woke up to an empty second half of the bed, which was at least unusual. The covers were totally messed up, of course. Faye didn't believe in the useless gesture of making the bed in the morning when it was simply destined to be terrorized that evening anyway, and Doug had to say he agreed with the logic. Besides--there was something threatening and dangerous about black sheets and red satin coverlet, whether or not the bed was made. Both situations had the same effect on outside observers. So it didn't really make a difference.

Okay, so she had to take off somewhere, Doug rationalized, ignoring the purely irrational feelings of almost-panic in his gut. She could have woken him up, couldn't she, and told him she was going somewhere? Ignore the fact momentarily that if someone tried to wake him up, he could make a rather violent fuss. He went in the bathroom to take a shower, and other details came clear to him--Faye had left quickly. The hair-dryer was still plugged in, clothes tossed around in the closet as if she had just grabbed something and flew, makeup left on the counter. Okay, so she had to take off somewhere pretty damn quick? Whatever. Forget it, just forget it. She would have woken him and told him if it was important. Right?

Downstairs, there was coffee in the machine that would have been cold enough to form ice-crystals. Doug shrugged and poured it in a tall glass, shoving it into the microwave. Waking up sucked, even at noon. It was in search of milk that he found the note, on the refrigerator in Faye's handwriting--a red Sharpie pen, the writing of course, spiky. He chuckled a little, sniffed it. It smelled like cinnamon.

_Gone to town. Back later._

Okay…that didn't say a hell of a lot. Doug took the milk and the note along with it back to the beeping microwave. Gone to town? Where in town? Back later? When? Then he caught himself in these questions and scowled. When the hell had he ever been worried about Faye? She could take care of herself just fine--maybe it was being back in New Salem, with all these squeaky-clean zombie people. Chris was the walking bag of wounded morality, lately, though that wasn't exactly a big surprise. Adam…well, Doug was smart enough not to broach that one. Nick had been all holier-than-thou, and Sean…well, Sean might be okay. He seemed to have grown a backbone in the Marines…now that had been a surprise.

But the thing was, Doug and Faye had made a life in Boston. Okay, sure, they had grown up here, but in Boston they had friends and jobs and…just shit to do! Geez. When Faye left in the morning in Boston, Doug could name any of ten places she might be. Here, she was somewhere-in-town, and Doug was nowhere near enough of a pussy to borrow a car and go looking for her. All he could do was sulk. Which made it worse.

Doug poured a little milk in the coffee and chugged the rest, tossing it toward the garbage can. Score! But now what? He sipped the bitter coffee and made a face, but continued drinking it. He growled at the dark, blank TV screen, then flicked it on to look for some violent sport: it would make him feel a little more alive. Stupid Faye. Where the hell had she gone? And why hadn't she taken him?

********************

Six hours later, the sky was a beautiful dark jewel-blue as Faye parked the car, took a load of bags out of the trunk, and balanced it all tentatively to open the door. She scanned the first floor cautiously for Doug before putting everything down on the dining-room table. She sorted out the bag that was the groceries and began putting those away first. Eggs, milk, vegetables. Busy work, keep doing busy work, that was the key. Buy things, drive places, anything to keep her mind off what she had heard in the doctor's office an hour ago.

When the groceries had been put away, Faye went into the living room to organize the CD collection. Which was when Diana came down the stairs. But Faye, distracted and self-involved, didn't even know Diana had entered the room until a slim white hand gently touched her shoulder. Faye nearly jumped and spun around. And there was Diana, her eyes bright green and gentle, the hair falling in loose un-brushed waves back from her face, the pale skin almost transparent.

"Diana?" Faye asked, more than a little unnerved at that calm face staring down at her. "Are you okay? Do you need anything?"

"Not a thing." Diana whispered. She extended a hand, and Faye touched it hesitantly, then squeezed it, holding it like a lifeline, breathing slowly and trying to hold on to some measure of calm. Then she stood and hugged her cousin, as if Diana had been a lost child.

At first, Diana felt a little surprised, but acquiesced readily enough to the embrace. She remembered when she and Faye had been young children--though they hadn't ever hugged then, either. When they were younger it had been a little easier for Faye to show her true feelings, before she had started getting a reputation. Reputations were a curse. Good or bad, they severely limited your activities. It was something no child should ever have to deal with, Diana decided. But maybe that was part of what made Faye as strong as she was--holding yourself to a standard determined by others imparted a great deal of self-control. It was probably why Faye never cried--because it just wasn't the sort of thing she _did_.

"Is it okay?" Diana asked, when Faye's grip loosened slightly. Not was She okay; Diana knew Faye would take great offense to that. Nothing was ever wrong with Faye herself--it was the situation that spurned her to react. Which might seem like whining, but in fact it wasn't. Faye reacted like Faye to every situation, and if the situations or the others around her didn't like it, too bad. Faye had never once been inconsistent, her entire life long. She was a rock, solid and uncompromising, but with the passion that came from her fire-self. The world changed, and Faye could keep up with it marvelously well, because she always knew where _she_ was and how _she_ felt. This utter self-knowledge and self-control made Faye one of the strongest people Diana knew.

"No." Faye whispered, and released Diana reluctantly. "But nothing can be done yet." Diana took in this information and didn't ask for any more--it was Faye's choice and Diana didn't want her to feel pressured.

"Doug was wondering where you were." Diana said, in a tone that was informative and not daring to even approach accusatory.

"Didn't he find the note?" Faye asked, the voice a little bemused, turning back to the CD's.

"I think that's part of what had him wondering." Diana paused, hesitantly. "It wasn't particularly informative."

"What?" Faye said, the tone low but not quiet. The words dropping stark into a pool of silence. "I went to town. How much more do you expect me to say?"

There could be no rational answer to that one. But Diana had seen the note--Doug had shown it to her--and it had instilled in her a deep-rooted fear and anxiety, agitated it to the surface. Not because of any bizarre paranoia of Diana's, the supposed reason that Faye and Doug were still in New Salem, four days after Yule. It was almost as if some of Faye's emotional state at the time had been translated to that note, that briskness and briefness and not her languorous wry normality, and had started a pit of worry in Diana's stomach. But Diana couldn't bear to bother Faye when she was so obviously agitated, so she let the silence grow, and did not explain.

"How are you feeling?" Faye asked Diana after the silence had spanned a few minutes.

"Fine." Diana said quietly. She had her routine for the morning sickness down pat--chamomile tea and toast, no butter or jam. She could almost draw stability from the smell now, which helped a lot.

"That's encouraging." Faye murmured. "Where is Doug?" The tones rising a little, in maybe nervousness. Faye didn't particularly want to talk to him anytime soon, considering how mad at her he was likely to be, if Diana's worry was any indication. But figured she really ought to.

"He's asleep." Diana said. "He was pacing and…never mind." She finished, as the sentence sort of refused to finish itself. Diana didn't really want to bother Faye--Faye looked as if she had other things on her mind.

"That's good." Faye said, at first thinking that this might be an excuse to delay the inevitable, but realized a second later that it would just prolong the agony. "I think…I'll go up and talk to him."

"Good." Diana said, not knowing what else she could say that might stray from the precarious edge of neutrality. Faye took a deep breath, nodded once, stood and headed up the stairs.

********************

The little guest bedroom was small--close quarters, smelled of tangled bed sheets and ocean breeze, since the window was open. The room had a neutral tone to it, with the various open black suitcases, white walls, bombé furniture. Which drew attention immediately to the red satin comforter on the bed: Faye and Doug had brought it with them from Boston. It was hard to get to sleep without it. Faye smiled at this, a fleeting expression, and went to sit on the edge of the bed by Doug.

He was sleeping, though his face was screwed up like a winepress. It was as if he had gone to bed stressed out, unhappy, worried, as if Diana had commanded him to do so instead of allowing him bang his head on the wall one more time. Faye felt a small flash of guilt, and quickly disposed of it. There was no good reason they should be scared for her--but there was also no good reason, to unenlightened eyes, for the attack on Cassandra. Part of Faye's trip that day had included some research on the town's history, which she would have to tell the others at a meeting some point soon. But one of the other things she had done today needed Doug's attention far more.

He looked like a little boy, like one of Wendy's lost boys from Peter Pan. But Doug had developed, at some point, this hardness his brother lacked. Doug had begun reacting to things, changing because of them, taking an active role sooner than his brother had. Some people thought Doug was the wilder twin, and in part this was true. But it was more true that where Chris was passive, Doug was active, and this was why Faye liked him. Chris let life happen to him. Doug happened to life.

Wanting desperately to take the strain and worry off that little-boy face, Faye's hand moved to touch Doug's cheek, gently, brushed some of his hair back. For a few seconds, the eyes didn't even flutter--Doug slept with the perfect trust of a child. And when his blue-green eyes, dark turquoise in this light, did open, they opened slowly. Doug rolled over.

"Where were you?" He asked, his voice slightly accusatory.

Faye couldn't think of any answer that would be the right one, and she desperately didn't want to give the wrong one. "Does it matter? I'm back."

"Were you thinking of leaving?" Doug asked, and the tone in which he said that conveyed the echoing emptiness of worry beneath his words. Faye was shocked into silence for a moment.

"No." She said, moving forward to touch him, hold him, wanting to assure him that she was there and would always be there. At first Doug tried to push her back from him, still angry, until he saw that Faye was saying 'no, no, no…' under her breath. He then went awkwardly from trying to keep her away to holding her, trying to comfort her. Giving comfort hadn't been a large role in his life.

"No." Faye whispered fiercely, touching his shoulders, his back, his face, slipping her hands underneath his shirt to feel the shock of skin on skin, trying to drive the words, the sentiment, into his brain. Doug was a little too shocked to do anything in response, and anyway, Faye didn't seem to be doing it in a method of passion. Then suddenly her hands were in his hair, on his jaw, on his neck, and her lips were descending and pressing down on his, the kiss overwhelming and mixed with the salty taste of mutual tears, breathing in each other's mouth.

The kiss finally broke, and somehow they had ended up horizontal on the bed. But they just lay and stared at each other, awash in the aftershock, trying to divine the secrets in each other's eyes.

"Doug," Faye whispered, trying hard to remain calm and failing miserably. As soon as she said that word, as soon as the intent of saying what she had to say occurred fully to her mind, the waves of emotion broke and tears rolled furiously down her cheeks. She didn't try to stop them, just wiped them away. She knew if she left now, she would never get as close to telling him as she was now for awhile.

"Yeah?" Doug asked, grabbing her hand and squeezing hard. "What is it?"

Faye paused, took stock, tried to remain calm. It didn't work. She might have to say this looking scared and disheveled, but by god, she would say it, and now. To hell with bravery and pride and everything else. To hell with all of it.

"Oh God." Faye wound up saying--the words just popped out. "Doug--" And the word was pleading, begging him to understand. "I'm pregnant."

And as the words shocked the hell out of him and turned over in his brain, all Doug could think of to do was hold her tightly. Physicality fell away, and it was he and Faye, against the world.

********************

Shortly after that, Faye called a meeting of the circle down at number one. Doug had gone around and spread the word that it was _mandatory_, and that anyone who wasn't there might potentially have a few problems on their hands, soon. Diana supported her in the idea that the entire circle needed to hear this information, even though she was not supportive of Faye and Doug's idea of what to do in reaction to it. She did not think it wise, practical or desirable for the coven to leave New Salem en masse, as they had suggested. But perhaps all of the circle together could come up with a suitable…idea, solution, defense, _something_.

Adam arrived first at the meeting, holding a blanketed bundle in his arms. He turned, and led another person through the door. His hand was gently on her shoulder, his actions sheltering and protecting as if she were a vase of blown glass. She did still look weary, Faye decided, in studying her face. Not as if she were actually unhealthy: she was walking fine, if slowly, and had probably been glad to be free of the hospital. But some vibrancy had been taken from her, some spark. Faye wondered what would have to be done to restore it to her, though being able to see her other friends and child had probably done it a powerful lot of good. A very battered little white mouse, but still fighting.

"Cassie." Diana said in relief, rising from the couch and going across the room to hug her tightly. "I'm so glad you came."

"I'm glad I did, too." Cassie said, leaning her head for a moment on the taller woman's shoulder. "I wasn't supposed to get out for another week, but it was draining me, the whole place. I had to be here, instead."

"We'll have you back to your old self in a few days." Diana said. "These doctors are crazy, with what they call rest and recovery. There's no way to heal, in an environment like that."

"No." Cassie agreed, relieved beyond normalcy just to hear Diana's bell-like voice again. Her care and concern seemed to make everything okay, despite that there was now a dark spot in Cassie's soul, fueled by the violence that had been done to her. That spot would never be totally okay again.

"Come sit up here, Cassie." Faye called, from the front sofa.

Cassie smiled at Diana's cousin. "Holding court, Faye?" Faye did look as if she expected the world to come to her, with the way she was set up on the couch and everyone else going about their business around her.

"Hardly. If I move a foot in the wrong direction, I feel like I'm going to retch." And that honey-toned skin did look a little more bleached than normal.

"Have you been sick?" Cassie asked, coming to sit on the sofa besides her. Diana grinned, and turned to whisper something in Cassie's ear. As Cassie heard it, her eyes grew wide.

"Faye!" Cassie said, and smiled just a little, but it was a smile of gentle congratulation, happiness for the darker girl.

"Yes, well." Faye said, with just a tiny smirk of her own. "Not like it's a big achievement or anything."

Cassie couldn't stop smiling, especially since Faye didn't look utterly depressed or stricken at the news, as Cassie had always assumed she would be when her turn came. "But you're happy?"

Faye raised an eyebrow. "You don't know me well at all, do you, little white mouse?"

"It's not like you've ever been particularly forthcoming with the information." Cassie reminded her.

Both eyebrows went up at that. "But then how do you expect me to be unpredictable?"

Cassie felt as if she'd been given a gift--when looking at all of Faye's actions, during high school and throughout their lives around each other, it was true, the exotic-looking girl had always been unpredictable.

"Well, then the most unpredictable thing you could in this situation would be to be happy about it, then." Cassie said reasonably. "So am I right?"

"A little of both, right and wrong." Faye said slowly, her face still retaining the consummate coolness.

"Well, then I hope you'll be totally happy soon. Because it's a good thing, really, a happy time, Faye. Congratulations."

"Well, then, thank you. I'll try." Faye said, the words only a little hesitant. The doorbell rang again, and Doug was up to go get it. From behind the door came Melanie and Laurel.

"Cassie! You're back…you didn't call or anything." Laurel was the first to say, fixing a reproving glance on her. No matter; she still came forward to give Cassie a hug. "Did you bring the baby?"

"Adam's in the kitchen, making him some formula." Cassie said, waving a hand in that general direction.

"You decided not to breastfeed?" Melanie asked. Doug, hearing the way in which the conversation was turning, followed Laurel to the kitchen.

"We decided to do a little bit of both. Maybe a feeding or two a day of breastmilk, as long as its at home. I never liked the idea of being one of those mothers who unbuttons her shirt on the middle of the street and dares anyone to yell at her for it." Cassie said, a touch shyly. "I mean, yeah, my obstetrician told me how good it is for him, but I can't bring myself to do it all the time. I feel like a cow."

"Are you using the enriched formula?" Diana asked.

"Of course." Cassie said, as if this ought to be at least a little obvious. "Plus whatever Laurel decided to add in there, no doubt."

Diana smiled. "Catnip."

The doorbell rang again, and Melanie rose to answer it. "Chris, Hi." Came from the door. Tentative eyes were raised to meet Diana's briefly, and then Faye spoke up.

"Doug is in the kitchen, Chris."

Chris nodded, and walked swiftly toward the back, or depending on how you look at it, the front, of the house.

"Catnip? Diana, why are you stopping there? If you want interesting things to put in formula there's mugwort, hawthorne…" Faye said, ticking the items off on her fingers.

"Oh, no." Cassie protested. "Joy doesn't need to be a visionary at two weeks old. We're leaving that entirely up to him. Let him grow into it, if he has to."

"Has to?" Faye's eyes turned to meet Cassie's. Faye remembered from that night on the beach exactly how powerful Joy was now. This made the potential of his power for when he was grown nearly limitless…but not if it was blocked from the very beginning. Cassie's fear, if she was actually scared, could inhibit an incredible talent.

"Well, if he wants to." Cassie amended, looking away. "What I mean, though, is that I want it to be his choice. I don't want things happening to him, problems to force it out of him. That's what we all had to go through, and it's traumatic."

"Traumatic…" Faye said, thoughtfully, "but effective, nonetheless."

Now the wildflower-blue eyes turned on the gold again. "Effective, perhaps, but damaging."

Faye shrugged. "Give a little, get a little. Oh, honestly, Cassie, doesn't look at me like that. I'm not going to poison your baby. I just wanted to be sure you weren't inhibiting his potential."

"What do you know about his potential?" Cassie asked, her eyes a little suspicious.

"A bit. That's part of what the meeting is about, actually. I wonder where Deborah is?"

Cassie took the change of subject gracefully, considering.

"Nick will probably be a little late." Laurel said, coming in from the kitchen with Joy in her arms, Chris and Adam right behind her. "He's bringing Ashley."

Faye shrugged one shoulder.

"Well, what _else_ did you want us to do, Faye?" Laurel asked, seeing the shrug. Speaking to Joy: "Let's go see your mom, huh?" She made her way over to the couch, and every female's face turned to look at her and the baby in her arms.

"Aww. Come here, little guy." Cassie said, stretching out her arms to take him and the bottle from Laurel. She looked at the bottle for a few seconds, and then at Laurel. "No mugwort in this, right?"

"What? Of course not, Cassie." Laurel said with a wrinkle of her nose. "Who'd give mugwort to a baby?" Cassie, comforted, gave Joy the bottle, which he attached himself to readily with happy snuffling noises.

"We were discussing the benefits of hallucinatory drugs on raising gifted children." Faye said dryly.

"Well, you wouldn't use mugwort, anyway." Laurel said. "I think the plant itself is mildly poisonous. It's the smoke it gives off, when burnt, that is supposed to give visions and dreams. The poor kid would probably only get a bad case of colic. Tea made with some visionary herbs might be better."

"Tea isn't supposed to be given to infants, anyway, though. The caffeine can be damaging. They say even pregnant women aren't supposed to drink it, or coffee." Diana said.

"To hell with that." Faye muttered. "I'm more dangerous without my coffee."

"And anyway, you still drink tea." Cassie pointed out to Diana, in slight protest. The orange teas had been her salvation during her pregnancy.

"Because anyone who has actually examined my tea knows there isn't a single tea leaf in it." Diana said, with a small smile.

"How…clever." Faye said, giving the impression that there was another word she would rather have used. Then the bell rang again, and Laurel, her arms free, went to get it. In came Suzan and Sean, with Deborah close behind.

"Oh, good. Ninety percent. That's fine. We should start." Faye said, sounding just a little anxious.

"No, wait for Nick." Diana protested. "After all, if Ashley is with him, he needs to know."

"What's wrong, Faye?" Deborah asked. Suzan made her salutations and gathered around the couch with the rest of them, looking a little ill herself.

Faye sighed. "I guess I'm tired." She said, in a tone that also said she didn't want any questions about it.

"Who else here feels generally crummy?" Melanie asked. One of every hand except those belonging to Laurel and Cassie went up. "Might be a good idea to look into natural remedies for pregnancy issues, then, us girls. Gems, herbs, whatever. Especially if any of us are considering going through this ordeal again."

"Again?" Faye asked in a tone of high sarcasm. She drew her eyebrows together, giving them all a look that plainly said, 'How suicidal are the lot of you?'

Cassie smiled weakly. "It doesn't have anything to do with this…thing. Whatever it is that attacked me, it's not going to scare me off of having a family. I'd like to wait until Joy is a little older, until I recover a little more…but I always wanted at least two children. Because when I was growing up, I always wanted a big sister." She finished, for way of explanation.

Diana smiled at Cassie, and their eyes met. "And I always wanted a younger one."

"Yeah." Laurel added. "Having just one doesn't seem right."

"Well, just one is fine by me. You need to learn self-sufficiency somewhere." Faye defended.

Melanie chuckled. "With that kind of attitude, you'll probably get a surprise. It's like cats rubbing their heads on the shin of the one person in the room that hates them."

Faye narrowed her eyes, half in suspicion, half in thought. "What are you hinting toward?"

Melanie eyes widened innocently. "Well, twins run in your family, don't they?"

Faye closed her eyes briefly in extreme protuberance. "If that does turn out to be true, I will have Doug shot."

"Won't do you much good by then." Melanie teased, twisting the knife a little.

"Oh, don't be awful, Mel." Laurel said, a little reprovingly. It was funny, one of the youngest in the coven and so often winding up acting the disciplinary mother. "For all you know, Laurent comes from a family of successive quintuplets."

Melanie went a little pale and didn't say anything more. Laurel figured she had taken the point. And right then, the doorbell rang. Laurel, of course, went to answer it.

"Hi." Laurel said, reaching across the doorstep to take Ashley from his arms. Nick gave her over readily. Ashley, who had her mother's hair and her father's eyes, looked around fascinated by everything. Suzan came over to take Ashley from Laurel, and Laurel let her go. Ashley was probably dressed in the frilliest clothing Nick had been able find at his place, and Suzan was absolutely enchanted. Nick had even put little ribbons in her hair, though they had been done crookedly, and the first thing Suzan did was start to straighten them. Ashley took the treatment tolerantly--she had grown up around these people, most of them, for the two-year span of time that had so far been her life.

"Will the recluses kindly return from the kitchen so we can get started?" Deborah called out. Chris, Doug, Adam and Sean filed in from the kitchen and took up places around the living room. The females that weren't leaders moved away from the couch, and Cassie even seemed to look stronger and sit up straighter as a mantle of leadership descended upon her.

"All right." Faye said, addressing the entire group. "Basically, this isn't going to be a terribly formal meeting. There's really only information to share. I can't think of a ritual or spell that can be done, at least presently, to stop her, so this is mainly going to be a forum for ideas."

"Who is she?" Laurel asked. None of the women in the room doubted the malicious spirit that had been plaguing them was female.

Faye hesitated. "From what I've seen, I believe her to be one of the children of the original New Salem coven--Katherine Hanover."

Melanie frowned, but it was Cassie who spoke up first.

"Kate?" She asked.

Faye nodded slowly. Cassie was shaking her head in disbelief.

"No. I'm sorry, Faye, but that's can't be true. In the dream that led me to the master tools, I saw her. Jacinth Hanover knew her. They were friends. She was good."

Faye changed strategies. "They were both Hanover…they actually were distant cousins. But I digress…how old were Jacinth and Kate in that dream, Cassie?"

Cassie frowned slightly. "Couldn't have been any older than…twelve or so."

"Katherine Hanover was born only a few years after the coven moved to New Salem. She died at a rather young age for the time--only twenty-two. Some of you may have seen her gravestone in the old graveyard. It has a rather interesting picture on it."

"The skeleton with the sun and the moon. Death's victory." Deborah said morosely, looking the other way.

"Even more interesting is the reason why that picture was chosen. Kate killed herself." And in this the golden eyes looked a little morose, even though they had seen some of the worst things life had to offer. Cassie's china-blue eyes became even lighter with slight shock, and she put a hand to her lips.

"But why?" Cassie asked.

"What I'm interested in is how you would know that?" Melanie countered. "That isn't the kind of thing that would go down in the old records. In fact, I've never seen anything like that."

"Actually, Melanie, causes of death were listed, sometimes, on the case that the information might be important. This was usually in the case of contagious illnesses, but sometimes for crimes; for instance if it was an execution. And Kate's cause of death was…well, basically it was alluded to. It was in the library records, not the ones of our personal families." She paused, as if the worst was yet to come. "And it was written down because she committed suicide after she was charged with the kidnapping and death of another family's child."

Deborah turned to focus on Faye. "_Yes_." As if a piece of information she had long been searching for.

"So you're saying that the ghost of a young woman, feeling abandoned and depressed, is the thing that attacked Cassie?" Melanie asked, still skeptical. "Even the dark energy needed to take over a body to do anything." In the back of the room, Sean swallowed, still plagued by those gaps in his memory. The Henderson brothers quickly glanced at him, and then, kindly, did not do it again.

"It makes sense, though." Laurel said. "I mean, with the similarity of those feelings. If Kate felt the way that we all did, the way that she made us feel…I could easily imagine her killing herself."

"Ghosts can do things like that." Sean said, when Suzan nudged him, though he was a little nervous about it. "I mean, look at old castles in Scotland and stuff. Ghosts move draperies, open closet doors and howl at people…they can make things happen."

"And there's explanations for that. Wind, minor earthquakes…" Melanie objected. "Nothing like this. If this was a ghost…this ghost could have killed you, Cassie."

"Don't believe in ghosts, Melanie?" Faye asked, slightly condescending.

"Would you really expect an educated person to?" Melanie asked, the gray eyes thoughtful. "Current thinking says that what ghost incidents can't be explained by pragmatic logic is more like, simply, an area holding memories of tragic or surprising events that sort of just left their impression there. For instance, people saying they hear the ghostly Wild Hunt in England: actually the land remembering a particularly violent incident of raiders."

"Or fairies." Laurel murmured. Melanie's gray eyes shot her friend a disdainful glance in response to _that_.

"Nothing like this has happened here before, though." Diana said gently.

"But guess what has?" Deborah broke in. "I bet if you look it up, you'll find that children dying or disappearing isn't altogether uncommon in New Salem."

Melanie frowned. "That could easily be something to do with the infant mortality rate on an island community with little access to adequate medical care."

"This particular problem hasn't been improving, though." Faye said, casting a glance in Deborah's direction. "In fact, I'm surprised your aunt wouldn't have mentioned something about it to you, Melanie. It's happened in every generation except that of our parents'."

Melanie smiled briefly. "She had a way of keeping things to herself sometimes." She said, conceding this small point. "But I still have odds with most of your 'evidence'." She said, voice not sour, but simply authoritative, and full of the self-confidence that every member of the old Club possessed.

"The coven doesn't have much of a reason to trust you, Faye." Adam said, looking at Cassie and then turning towards Faye. Doug turned, looking towards Adam, but Faye was perfectly able to defend her own honor.

"I trust Faye, Adam." Diana said, the green eyes solemn.

"If you don't, Adam, it's no loss of mine." Faye said, as if her cousin hadn't spoken. "Why would I care about saving your worthless skins?" Raising an eyebrow and leaning back on the couch.

"There isn't any hard evidence to back this up." Adam said, mostly to Diana. "It's just a theory."

"Well, I'm sorry." Faye said a touch sarcastically, her eyes narrowing, sounding as if she _really_ meant it. "But all the evidence we have lies on a few people in this room. Which would be myself, Deborah, and your son."

Adam's eyes turned hematite-gray. "Explain yourself."

"She doesn't have to explain a damn thing if she doesn't want to." Doug said, and Adam's eyes flashed up, finally acknowledging the existence of the rest of the world. Faye ignored that, as well.

"My disagreement isn't with you, Doug." Adam said softly.

"Maybe it should be." Doug said, the tilted eyes more ice-blue than turquoise, and glittering savagely. It was obvious how much everyone in this room was still hideously on edge.

"Adam, don't be an idiot." Faye said, with a scornful tilt of her head. "We're leaving this afternoon, going back to Boston. I'd like to urge you all to do the same. If you have young children, or intend to, get away from New Salem. Just get the hell out."

"That's not exactly possible for everyone." Diana said, her voice comforting those who looked worried and scared. "I'm not leaving. And the more of the coven we have here, the more able we will be to launch a defense, if it's necessary.

"Can we defend ourselves?" Nick asked. "What will she try to do?" he asked, taking Ashley and putting her on his lap.

Faye shrugged. "Deborah is really the only one here who would know. She's the guardian of time." The room made questioning noises, looking around to see if maybe the people sitting next to them had caught some detail they had missed.

"Is that what Jacinth was talking about, then?" Deborah asked, over the sounds of confusion that slowly quieted.

"I didn't know she had said anything to you, yet." Faye said, surprised.

"Not really. Only a little." Deborah said, her eyebrows furrowing as she tried to remember. "She said the first would be Joy, only I didn't know who that was, then. When did you guys decide what to name him?" She asked, in Cassie and Adam's direction. Despite that Deborah was directing the question directly to them, most of the circle looked quite miffed that the entire 'discussion' was going right over their collective heads.

"In the hospital." Cassie said, a touch helplessly.

"But she knew. She looked like you." Deborah said.

"I thought she was probably an ancestor of mine." Cassie admitted. "It would make sense--I bet that was why I could see through her eyes, and find out where the master tools were."

"Well, she came to me. At first I thought it was a dream…but my cat disappeared." Deborah said.

"Don't animals not like ghosts?" Suzan asked Sean.

"I don't think Jacinth was a ghost. She said she hadn't actually died." Deborah said.

"Kate was a ghost. And Jacinth looked about the same, that night on the beach." Faye said.

"So you were there, then?" Deborah asked the taller girl. "I felt like you were."

"I know." Faye said. "You called my name. Shocked the hell out of me."

"So how did you do it, then? You weren't even in New Salem." Deborah said accusingly. Everyone else shifted uneasily. This was a little too familiar an occurrence, the accusations too similar.

Faye shrugged. "I don't really know. But it happened after I came to New Salem. That night when I left the party? I went outside to the beach, to think, and all of a sudden I was out of my body and a week in the past. I ran into Kate and Jacinth."

"And you didn't try to stop them?" Adam asked, his face tensed and stricken, too familiar with Faye's deceptions.

"Actually, Adam, if it matters at all, I did. But if you won't believe me, what difference does it make?" Faye said, rising from the couch. "It's been lovely visiting with you all. But we're leaving so quickly--I really must pack." She went out through the kitchen and took the back stairs up, leaving the room a bit more than slightly stunned at her departure. Doug, casting one cold glance at Adam and then over the entirety of the room, followed her.

********************

Diana looked unhappy and morose, but none of the circle excepting Doug actually followed Faye out of the room. Instead, people began to mill around, the tenets of concentration that Faye had so easily been able to wield broken. Suzan turned to Diana.

"So Faye's leaving New Salem? And she wants the rest of us to leave too?"

"Only back to Boston." Diana said. "But we can't all leave; obviously there's going to be debate over that. I guess that's for individuals to decide."

Laurel motioned Nick over to the trio. "So what do you think we should do?"

Diana spread her hands helplessly. "Where is Nick living now?"

"Wherever business is good." Nick said, joining them. He settled his sunglasses on his face, the expensive ray-bans now far advanced from what he had worn in high school for the same purpose. "Right now, focusing mainly on the tri-state area. Renting." Nick consulted various companies and individuals concerned with wide automobile general knowledge, as a sort of expert opinion. It paid well, but it had taken him long hours, first working in garages and then managing them, to move up. It had put only more stress on a marriage that had been difficult to begin with.

"And you guys normally drive her up and switch, right?" Diana asked. Nick and Laurel nodded; the divorce had been amiable, and they had still been able to be good friends once the original pain and discomfort had died. Diana bit her lip, trying to figure out a way to phrase this.

"Maybe the best way to do this would be to have someone take care of her out of New Salem for a bit?"

"Is she really that much at risk?" Nick asked, his eyes in impassive mode, even though Diana knew he loved Ashley with everything he had.

"There's really no way to tell." Diana said. "There hasn't been another attack on a child yet. We won't know until then."

"I'm not comfortable in waiting for something like that." Nick said, the mahogany eyes still dark. "Who should she stay with?"

Diana hesitated--there was no perfect way to say this. "Well, the more people the better." Nick and Laurel looked briefly at each other, and Diana knew they had gotten the message. The problem, however, was actually coming to a compromise. These people were both quite strong-willed, and they both wanted the child, yet they were still more comfortable, understandably, living separated.

"I can work from home, for the most part." Nick said, willing to at least try.

Laurel hesitated. She ran a small plant nursery in town and would have to be there during the days. "I can come over and visit you two in the evenings, then. Though I'd really like to see her in the mornings sometimes." Diana was proud of her friend--she knew how hard it had been for Laurel to say that.

"Okay." Nick said, without hesitation. "We'll come visit now and then. And we'll make sure not to be anti-social around here. We'll play with Aunt Debby, right Ash?"

Ashley nodded definitely with the single-mindedness of a small child. She stuck one finger in her mouth and sucked on it thoughtfully for a minute, then reached up and yanked one of the ribbons out of her braids.

"I think that looks like a yes." Deborah said, taking Ashley and putting her on her lap. "You don't like ribbons in your hair, huh? I don't blame you. Silly dad--we'll have to teach him a lesson. Get you some pants, let you make mud pies."

"We've already been through how to change spark plugs." Nick said, his eyes smiling through their seriousness. "I don't think much of it was retained." Diana smiled.

Looking around at the small question session that had itself turned into a larger pow-wow, Laurel got up. "I need some tea." Laurel said. "Anyone else want to concur?" And various hands were raised. Laurel glanced over the room as if counting absently, patted Ashley's head, and then headed into Number One's kitchen that she knew just about as well as her own. Diana paused for a moment in indecision, looked at how the people left at the meeting were basically talking amongst themselves, and then followed her friend. Coming up behind Laurel as she stood at the sink, Diana put a hand on Laurel's shoulder.

Laurel sighed. "This is awful. It's going to be the hardest for Nick and me. And poor Ashley. I just don't think she understands…"

"She doesn't seem to be unhappy about it." Diana said gently.

"We've been divorced for just about as long as she's been born. It's just…normal to her, I guess, that mommy and daddy live in separate places. I guess I feel guilty--like she shouldn't feel that way." Laurel said, her voice full of hurt that, for Laurel, was very rare.

There was very little that could be said to this. "Don't. Ashley is a wonderful child. You and Nick are doing everything right. It's not your fault that you weren't perfect for each other." Diana said, thought it felt a bit like the comfort was reiterating the obvious. Thankfully, though, Laurel seemed to take comfort from it.

"I…wanted him to be something he wasn't. I guess we both were a little fooled." Laurel said, the voice not threatening tears, but remorseful. "We were so sure that the other person was…different, I guess. It was perfect at first…and then it started to wear thin. I felt like we were trying to patch things up all the time. I guess we finally decided to stop fooling ourselves." Diana didn't respond, just patted Laurel's shoulder in comfort. Laurel took a deep breath, straightened, and all of a sudden seemed to be all right again.

"Thanks, Di." Laurel said, getting teacups.

"That's what I'm here for." Diana said, looking over the petite girl's shoulder at the garden, now waving in a slight breeze. Looking at the back of the garden, actually…to the garden gate, which led to a path, down to the beach and around the headland. Diana suddenly felt such a longing to be outside, to be free, not to feel trapped, just for this small moment in time.

"Do you have any fresh mint leaves, Di?" Laurel asked, not noticing the near-obsessive way in which Diana was gazing out the window, like some kind of caged animal.

"Um? Oh…no." Diana said, drawing her mind back to the contents of her refrigerator. "No. There will be some out in the garden, though."

"Oh. Would you mind getting it? Hibiscus tea just tastes so much better with lemon and mint…"

"Sure." Diana said. She was the one wearing a sweater, after all: the request made sense. She took a minute to wonder why she felt like a kid getting a chance to buy everything in the candy shop. "Be right back." And opened the heavy back door, going into the herb-and-flower garden.

After so long without regular tending, the garden looked quite overgrown. She had come here every once in awhile, ever since she had moved into number eight with Chris, just to weed sporadically and make sure the whole plot wasn't consumed. Despite this, however, the garden still looked a little wild with neglect. Diana actually rather liked it--it was nothing like Laurel's garden, which she sometimes felt looked rather like an attentive army: the plants were all tied to sticks and ordered in nice, neat rows with signs of identification.

Around the spout where a hose would go, in the constant dampness of the soil, mint had sprung up in wild profusion, joined by vivid purple violets and their broad leaves. Diana plucked a handful leaf by leaf, laying them in her other hand and thanking the soil and the roots for their favor. She had stood and turned to go back to the kitchen, her body along with her mind basically on auto-pilot, when the garden gate came into her field of view again.

Well, she'd just look over it. Maybe open it, take a step or two. No more. Laurel was waiting for her. She stepped over the various plants that had leaves and tendrils sticking out into the paths of the garden, and finally laid a hand on the weathered wood, looking longingly outward. Her fingers fumbled with the rusty catch on the gate without seeing it, and it finally sprung open. She leaned against the gate post for a second, and then took a step. At that moment, she heard the kitchen door open beside her, and a voice went up.

"Diana?" Nick called, Ashley in his arms.

Diana turned backwards to look at him. For an over-emotional second, tears almost flooded into her eyes. "Yes?"

"Laurel said you were out here. I didn't think it was good for you to be all alone."

Diana tried to be appreciative of the idea that Nick cared about her, but it just wasn't taking. She wanted to take a _walk_, damn it, wanted to feel like a normal human being again, one who was perfectly capable of taking care of herself for a few solitary moments.

"I just needed a walk." Diana said, and her gaze drifted again. Nick saw the distance of her glance, and nodded. He walked up to her, gently unfolded her hands from the mint leaves, and took them himself. Diana, halfway between depressed and surprised, didn't stop him or even ask him a question.

"Right." He said. Turning away from Diana briefly, he put his two-year old daughter on the ground, and tucked the mint leaves into her tiny hand. "Go in and give those to your mom, okay? And stay in." He said, with a serious look and a slight wagging of his finger. Ashley nodded solemnly, with big eyes, and ran pell-mell into the slightly open kitchen door.

"I'm coming with you." He said, not leaving any room for comment. Diana resisted the urge to sigh in an irritated tone.

"Sure." She said, opening the gate and slipping through it. Nick followed right behind her.

Diana tried to walk without speaking, ignoring him, but within a minute it was obvious that such an idea wasn't going to work very well. For one, she felt cheap and awful, trying to ignore Nick when all he had done was show concern about her well-being. For another, Nick might have been getting the point, but for all it showed on his face it didn't make the slightest bit of difference. Nick had lived a hard life, and a few minutes of being ignored weren't going to make him angry, or tempt him to break down and cry. As the first minute passed and a second one started, it became clearly obvious that if Diana wasn't going to say anything, Nick wasn't going to countermand that. He truly didn't want to bother her--he had just wanted to make sure she was okay. And he was perfectly willing to just walk there in silence all day, if that was what she wanted. Diana's previous annoyance melted away, to where she didn't quite know, and left her with a curious sort of shyness.

Diana had been de-facto leader of the coven since time immemorium. Ever since she and Melanie had been twelve years old, and had first found Diana's family's book of shadows up in the attic. Melanie had founded the coven, or at the very least founded the _idea_ of starting a coven, just as much as she had, and yet, in a way, Melanie had deferred to her. Nothing like letting Diana boss her around--and besides, Diana wouldn't have done that if she could have. But Melanie and her had had differences of opinions often enough over the course of their friendship, and it had simply happened that when a decision had to be made about how to run the young coven, Melanie consistently had come around to see Diana's point of view. The others had done it, too--Adam and Laurel. Faye was the first once who had rebelled against that pattern, and even this far down the road of their lives, Diana remembered the sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach when her cousin had disagreed with her views, that first time. But even so, majority made authority, and when Adam had said that their little coven needed a leader, Diana had been instantly elected.

Since then, she had hardly known a life without leadership. It was a funny mix of politicking, along with caring for your members and being the best person you could be, as an example. One thing was for sure; it kept you in line. Unless of course one had a bent on power before being made leader--then it was a recipe for a sure descent into the overwhelming temptation of corruption. But Diana had never wanted power. She loved all of her friends, found it hard _not_ to find something about everyone in the coven to love, some way or another. There was good, some honor in every one of them--it was simply hardest for the people themselves to see it. And inside, when she looked for the deepest roots to how she felt about leadership, she found she was touched that they had chosen her to represent them for so long. Even when Suzan and Deborah and Doug, even Nick, had turned to Faye in high school, she knew that deep down they had still trusted her, even if they no longer liked her brand of leadership. It was a humbling feeling.

She knew she wasn't perfect. She just tried to live her life in a way that would bring her and those she loved the ultimate amount of happiness. And by this she meant true happiness, not the temporary flame of obsession or other, baser, activities. And from what she had seen, the easiest way to do that was to live simply. It had been like an epiphany, the day it had come to her, the day she realized that happiness actually had a method to it. Do no wrong. Do no harm. The Golden Rule. Goodness is returned upon its maker times three…that was what had been written in her book of shadows, hadn't it? It was the easiest, purest way to do things, and the purity of simplicity had always meant a lot to Diana, the simple elegance of a correct solution. It was nice, certainly, that people were always doing nice things for her, but that wasn't the point. The point was to live with purity, in what was the easiest way: to live in happiness, without guilt or regret or pain. Looking back, her life had been happy, so she had probably done a fairly good job so far, but she knew she still wasn't perfect.

Like now. It wasn't right to be ignoring Nick. Nick was special. With all that he had had to put up with in his life, he had still been honest and honorable to everyone he ever dealt with. Nick had his own code of honor, and he had been strong enough to keep that, even through…everything. Through living with a family that was not his own, with parents who didn't understand him, through a coven that sometimes seemed to care about nothing more than winning his side in a debate. He deserved a little more consideration than that--they were kindred souls in a way, weren't they? Almost like twins in honor, whereas she and Faye were twins in purity, though admittedly purity of different kinds.

"Should you have let Ashley back in the house alone like that?" Diana asked him. His shoulders tensed, so she knew he had heard.

"Should you have wanted to walk outside alone?" He asked in return.

Diana thought about this for a minute. It wasn't true that he had put his caring of her over his caring of his daughter. He was taking the morality of the situation and reflecting it; playing it back to her, trying to see her side. He lived in a world in which it was his job to navigate the smoke and mirrors. "I had different reasons." She said finally. Nick didn't respond immediately.

"Look." He said, after a little silence. "If a two-year old child can't go thirty feet through a garden and into a kitchen door without an adult holding her hand, then we're in a lot more trouble than it looks. And in that case, it would really be stupid of you to want to take a walk alone."

"It isn't quite the same." Diana protested, even though in her soul she felt the jangling of nerves, knew her statement hadn't been totally honest and true. Nick's eyes went darker, conveying his feelings perfectly--bull, it wasn't the same. It was exactly the same.

Nick wasn't about to ask why she had wanted to take off, however. Maybe it was something she shouldn't have done, but Nick was well accustomed to a life of doing what didn't make sense to other people. Sometimes you just had to do certain things, to save your sanity and your soul, and it was hard to even convince yourself in these times that how other people felt really mattered. Ten years ago, after the defeat of Black John, when Cassie had insisted that Diana become leader again, Nick had wondered if it would be the right thing for her to do. But she had slipped into the old role again, just like a second skin. Nick had come to push back his worries, tell himself they had been inconsequential, especially once Diana had started dating Chris.

"Why isn't it the same?" He asked instead.

"Because Ashley is only two years old." Diana said softly. "Because she hasn't been attacked. Because I was inside the house for a week, afraid to go out, and I had to prove to myself that I had the freedom to be able to be alone again." She sighed. "I felt like a doe afraid to go to the watering hole. So helpless. So dependant. You have no idea what it was like."

Nick knew all about having to prove things. The early part of his life had been full of that, though as he had gotten older, his aunt and uncle had just learned to instead give him a wide berth, and he had learned to not take their feelings into consideration at all. It was simple enough--basically, they avoided each other, like most parents and their children had avoided the subject of witchcraft and the Powers entirely on Crowhaven Road. Aunt Grace had said constantly that he and Deb were too reckless, too wild, shouldn't be allowed to make their own decisions, but Uncle Ian couldn't have cared less. This balance-that-wasn't-a-balance had eventually ended in the only sensible solution--he and Deb did whatever they damn well pleased. But Diana had been tied to the coven with a stainless-steel chain, as well as not wanting to upset her father. He could see that it wouldn't have been quite as simple for her.

"I think I know a little." Was all Nick said, however.

"Do you?" Diana asked, the question half a real question and half a tart reply. "Do you know what it feels like to have everyone constantly wanting to protect you, to take care you, almost as if you're too…pure, innocent, naïve, to do it yourself?" Diana looked down at her hands, distantly unsurprised to see they were faintly shaking. "People have always been that way around me, and since that thing--Kate, since she watched me, hunted me, for a week, it's been worse. I can't believe that you know exactly how that feels."

The corners of Nick's lips turned upward in a small smile that was nonetheless devoid of anything that could easily be defined as happiness. He turned the question back on her. "Do you know why Adam and I never quite got along?"

That was obviously a dramatic understatement. Diana was surprised, because Nick usually wasn't the kind of person to elaborate or conceal any of the facts about a situation. But maybe he was trying to be polite. Diana didn't know why Adam and Nick had been enemies almost since childhood, and Nick had known she didn't know. She had tried to find out, of course, in an unobtrusive way, ever since Nick had joined the coven and he and Adam had been at each other like a couple of wary dogs. But she had never wanted to ask the question of either of them directly. It was something they would tell her themselves, if they wanted to, someday…except that after Nick and Adam had both gotten married, they weren't as close to her anymore. She had had to placate her curiosities with the fact that Nick had moved away and at least wouldn't be baiting Adam any more.

"Conant is an interesting kind of guy." Nick said. "Takes responsibility for people. You know that--the incorruptible Sir Adam."

Of course, Diana knew that name for him had been going around the circle. She had caught the slight sarcasm in the words when any of Faye's crew had used it, but she had expected it from them. With the rest of the coven, she thought it was more a badge of honor. It was one of the funny things about Adam that defined who he was, even if it sometimes drove them a little crazy. Diana had never really thought of it as a reason for someone not to like him. She nodded.

"Well, I joined the Club after he did. You know that too. Deb talked me into it, after she joined. But the thing was, Adam seemed to have taken it upon himself to teach me how to act. Seemed to think he understood me or something. Maybe because I just understood Faye at that point, more than I did Melanie or Laurel, he thought I was up to no good. Maybe he was worried about you. But whatever, he always seemed to think it was his prerogative to keep me out of trouble."

And if Diana thought back to ten years ago, yes, she could see that. The way that Adam tensed whenever Nick said or did anything that he wouldn't have done, the way that Nick seemed to distance himself from the other boys in the circle. He wasn't a loner, he just seemed to have a shield around him that said, 'this far and no farther.' He didn't let anybody in. If you stretched that a bit, you could carry it to the idea that Nick simply didn't want anyone telling him what to do, not ever.

"And it weighed on me a bit, you know?" Nick said, moving his hands so that he clasped them behind his back. "So finally, at the end of our sophomore year, I told him off. He had come to tell me about a circle meeting and I said I didn't want to go. He said that I was needed there--that the least I could do was come to meetings. I said I was tired of him thinking I was under his thumb. I would go and do whatever the hell I pleased, when I felt like it. And he didn't like it. We didn't get in a fight. But we've never exactly been buddies."

"That was when I got involved with Faye. I don't think it had ever occurred to her to stand up to Adam and the others before, but suddenly, then, it did. So maybe it makes everything that happened afterwards a little bit my fault." But the eyes didn't look terribly remorseful at this. They were simply stating a historical fact, without regret. Those eyes were mahogany lined with ice.

"No, Nick." Diana said. "Faye would have done what she would have done, anyway. She never liked the idea of me being leader, even when we were younger."

"I guessed that much." Nick said. "But the fact remains that someone had to let them all off the leash--and I don't hesitate at taking responsibility for it, if Adam was trying to prevent from…thinking in their own way."

"I know you don't." Diana said, braiding some strands of her hair idly. "But no-one needs to take responsibility for it. It's over, it's done and gone. It probably would have happened anyway, and now we're all the stronger for it. And you have to realize that when Adam acted that way, he was trying to do the best for the coven."

"The best for the coven, maybe. Not always the best for the people in it. Sometimes I wonder if he wasn't just trying to do what was best for you. But I wouldn't blame him for that--it's understandable."

Diana remained silent.

"Have you ever thought about why people might want to protect you?" Nick asked, not quite daring to look at her.

Diana shrugged one shoulder, but didn't say anything. Yes, she knew a little. She wasn't all that innocent. And yes, it was far from them thinking she was naïve or stupid--but if she admitted that to herself, wasn't that far-blown and arrogant and ridiculous?

"You have this light inside you." Nick explained, his voice not in the least abashed. "I could understand trying to protect that, even at the expense of other people. As long as that light is there--it's like some things are still okay in the world, even if the rest of it turns to crap."

The heat rose on Diana's cheeks. "You don't understand, Nick. I'm not worth that. Or if I am, so is everyone else. If I deserve that--then so do you."

"Maybe we do." Nick said. "I won't fight you on that--I think lots of people in life deserve more than they get. But understanding the concept and acting it out are two totally different things, you know?"

Diana nodded--she knew. She was learned enough growing up to understand that she had an uncommon amount of conviction. Whereas others might talk about how to make the world a better place, Diana didn't see any excuse for lying there and talking about--she went out and she did it. This didn't sound like anything less than being moral to her, but to some others it obviously sounded like it verged on the extraordinary. "I know." She thought back to Cassie, not quite understanding the concept of good in everyone, even in Faye, the first day they had met. "Finding the good in people, and acting on it. A lot of people seem to find that a little difficult."

Nick laughed wryly. "I'm nothing like Adam. I couldn't ever be like that."

Diana bit her lip. "I wouldn't want you to be, Nick. You're special. You're perfect just the way you are."

Nick raised an eyebrow at this. "You really think so?"

"Well, I mean, why would you want to be like Adam? You're two different people." She said, as if it ought to simply be that easy. But she knew from the sinking weight in her chest that it really wouldn't be--emotions and feelings couldn't be fought with logic.

"Yeah. The same as you and Cassie are two different people." And from the bitterness in his voice, Diana guessed what he was driving at--that Cassie had entered her relationship with him yearning for Adam. Diana wouldn't have expected anything less, after all--Cassie and Adam were soulmates, right? The entire reason she had given Adam up, to let him go to the person he truly loved. She hadn't even been able to bring herself to do any more than hug him after her seventeenth birthday. "She always wanted only Adam. But she didn't want to contest you having him first."

"I never knew that." Diana said distantly.

"Not even after they got together?" Nick asked, curiously. "She told me, the night we broke up. That there wouldn't be anyone else for her, ever. And that she was glad you had him."

Diana's eyes did tear then, thinking of the nobility of Cassie that Adam had never really been able to tell her about. Not in the beginning because Cassie hadn't wanted him to, not before Faye had revealed everything because then he felt guilty, and not afterwards because he had probably thought it would hurt her. And if there was anything Adam always avoided, it was hurting people. Funny, how the thought of Adam being with her but only being able to love Cassie could still sting a tiny bit, after all these years.

"Well, then I guess she stole my thunder." Diana said softly, trying to blink back the tears. Along with a little of everything else--but it wasn't her little sister's fault, really, it wasn't.

"I'm not gonna try and be like Adam, Di. Even if I should--I won't. What I mean to say is…it didn't work with Cassie, and it won't work with you."

"Good." Diana said, wondering futilely why he had chose to say it that exact way. She wasn't sure now if she could say a longer sentence without totally failing to make any sense at all. They walked for a few minutes then, in silence, both of them regaining their composure a little.

"You've never felt like you had to be like someone else?" Nick asked, and they were now almost by the bluff, having walked down the entire length of Crowhaven Road.

Diana sighed. "My mother, I guess."

"You dad always missed her, huh?" Nick asked, and Diana dimly realized that this was very sympathetic, because Nick had never grown up around adults that actually loved each other and acted like it.

"I hope so." Diana said. It didn't occur to her that Nick might get the wrong message out of this, that she had wanted her dad to be unhappy without her mom--it wasn't like that at all. It was more that she had hoped they really had loved each other before she died, had a little happiness together, even if he let her go off to fight Black John alone. "But sometimes…it was more like he needed me to be a little like her, too. He was so buried all the time; he needed someone to drag him out of it." They started down the little path carved into the edge of the bluff itself that slowly winded down, leading to the beach. Diana could see the towering gray bulk of Number Twelve from the path.

"Aunt Grace always seemed to get guilty when I looked too happy. She said once that my smile reminded her of my dad." Nick said, his face grim. "And it looked like it scared her so much, I stopped smiling around her. I guess I never stopped thinking it was a little bit my fault, when I was younger."

"My dad never told me if I was much like my mom. He wouldn't talk about her at all." Diana said, taking off her thin shoes to dig her toes in the soft sand. "But I wonder how much I was like her--whether he wouldn't say anything because he felt guilty, or scared." She said quietly. She didn't like to think of her father like that: hunted and unhappy, hiding from the past as he raised his daughter, his fear keeping him from knowing the truth about the Club.

"I don't think that's the kind of thing it's good to think about." Nick said.

"It's hard not to." Diana said. Nick moved up to her side, because they were off the tiny single-file path now, and took her hand.

"Maybe we shouldn't worry about how much we are like other people." He said. "Especially after those people are gone."

Diana didn't answer for a minute, getting used to the feeling of Nick holding her hand. His hand was nice--warm and dry and strong, rather like his voice. She wasn't sure she wanted to admit to herself how much she desperately needed strength like that. She was afraid she would fall into his arms like she had into Chris's after Adam had left, and Chris certainly wasn't the type of person who had been ready to take care of anyone. And she didn't want to be unfair with Nick about this--he was special, and a great friend, and a wonderful person…she just wasn't sure if this felt right. But she didn't let go of his hand.

"Diana," Nick said hesitantly, after he and Diana had been walking for several minutes more, "I'd never want you to be like Cassie for me. That wouldn't work--anymore than my trying to be Adam for Cassie."

Diana didn't want to ask the obvious question to that.

"But I couldn't take it if you wanted someone else, Nick." Diana said, in a very low voice, and it felt as if she were letting out her soul entire though these few words. "I can't do that, ever again."

"I'm not asking you to." Nick said calmly, as if he had practiced this before saying it. "I'd never ask you to. You're perfect just the way you are."

"But I'm not perfect. I'm not right. Maybe everyone else thinks I am--but I'm _not._" Diana said firmly, and tried to free her hand, kind of half-heartedly, but not in a teasing fashion.

"You're as perfect as anyone needs you to be." Nick said. Diana, who hadn't quite expected this agreement phrased in such a way as to make her feel shocked at the compliment, stopped fighting.

"But Nick--I've just separated. I don't know if I could feel--if I could be…"

"Everything you are is perfect to me." Nick said harshly, not in a mean way, but as if he were trying to drive the words into her mind, to make them stay there. "I said that, and I meant it."

"Nick," Diana said, continuing doggedly, "I'm sorry. But I can't be anything but honest with you-"

"You can't? Perfect." Nick said, as if this ought to be the end of the discussion.

"And the truth is that this doesn't feel right." Diana insisted, and felt the heat rise in her cheeks again. "I don't know that I could…feel for you what you feel for me."

"I don't want you to." Nick said, and this was so opposite to Diana's point of logic that for a second, she stopped trying to argue.

"But--" She attempted, when she had gotten a little bit of her composure back. What she wanted to try to put into words was that she didn't think she could feel right for Nick, or in being with Nick, if she wasn't being as honorable as she usually expected herself to be. And that walking on the beach alone, hand in hand with Nick, before her divorce papers with Chris had even gone through, definitely wasn't honorable.

"Diana." Nick said, and the way he said it was so simple that she stopped. "Tell me something. Okay? Do me a favor?"

"Okay." She said, slowly, waiting for the punchline.

"Am I Adam?"

"No, but--"

"Am I Chris?"

"No." That one, at least, she had been able to answer without explanation.

Nick tilted his head to look at her. "Well, then? What's the problem?"

Diana sighed. On the outside, it sounded perfect. But she knew that inside, since she wasn't fulfilling her own code of honor, it wouldn't feel right. "It's too easy, Nick. I'd be getting too much out of this. It doesn't seem like it's right." She said, feeling as if the simple answer was futile, that he would keep arguing his point anyway.

"It's perfect for me. I'm getting everything I want."

And Diana was about to argue with that when her brain finally connected the two pieces together. It wasn't as if she would be unhappy with Nick: she just felt that if she being immoral in her own mind, that there was no way she could avoid being unhappy someday because of it. And that if Nick liked her in any way based on how he had known her in the past, that would be severely different from the way in which she would be in the near future. This would be especially true if she were to stop managing herself, even only sometimes, in the way she had done since she was very young. And if she couldn't be right for him, and if she really was all that he wanted, it would be unequal. It would be simply unfair. But Nick didn't want fair. From everything he was saying--it seemed like all he wanted was _her_. And Diana wanted him--it wasn't like she could disagree with that.

"But it feels like I'm getting too much out of this." Diana said, her voice now in a totally different tone than the protestations she had given before.

"How could that work?" Nick asked, squeezing her hand. "I'm getting everything."

And when he leaned down to kiss her, Diana let him.

********************

This time, it started with a dream.

Nick and Ashley, accompanied furtively by Diana for the first couple of hours, and Laurel until Ashley had gone to bed, had visited. The five of them drank coffee, tea in Diana's case and milk in Ashley's, and tried to make happy and distracting conversation. Deborah didn't miss that Nick had been no more than one foot from Diana for most of the night, and smiled to herself. She had always thought that the blonde girl and her cousin had been sort of unthinkingly attracted to each other. Now that both of them were unattached, maybe they could try it out. Deborah could see Nick's strength as being good for Diana, whereas it might have been a little stifling for Laurel.

So they had sat around the living room and talked about anything and everything. They were trying to stay off of subjects they didn't really want to think about, even though in the room there was two out of the three experts who had presided, Deborah albeit reluctantly, at the meeting that day on the Kate issue. They talked about their jobs, old memories, hilarious episodes in their love lives and all other venues, as well as anything varied that caught all of their interest, which tended toward their religion and the coven. But they all knew what they were trying _not_ to think about, so this cast a shadow over the friendly banter.

Ashley played happily with her doll, brought from home, and whatever else around Number Two that Deborah had felt comfortable in giving her and was sure would not fit in her mouth. This also included the kitten, whenever he deemed to make an appearance. Ashley had seen the bit of black fur, gleefully called "Kitty!" and rushed off to chase it around the house, only to be unrewarded. She had returned to the group of grown-ups with full eyes, and had immediately received comfort. Later, the kitten had reappeared when the noise died down, and Deborah scooped him up and presented him to Ashley, who exercised a great deal of caring with her motor control and petted him gently.

But all of this only lasted until ten p.m., when Ashley had started getting the yawns. They all went to put her to bed--she had been made a little nest of pillows inside the bedroom where Nick was staying at Number Two for a now undefined period of time. Laurel and Diana left after that, and the cousins were alone with her. They were both sleeping in this room tonight, being as it seemed at least a cautious idea to have two adults in the room with the child at all times.

"Hey, Nick? I'll be out for just a minute."

"Make it just a minute." Nick replied, not scared, but a little concerned. Deborah nodded, went out and then returned holding her Book of Shadows and her velvet-lined box of gems. She put them on the bed, sitting gently so as not to disturb Ashley, and began to sift through them.

"What're you looking for?" Nick asked, softly, watching her fingers.

"Moonstone. And I think amber. I want to have a little chat with Jacinth tonight." Deborah replied, a little annoyed, as well as anxious for answers that Faye had not been able to give.

"You've actually talked to her?" Nick asked.

"Yeah. Though last time wasn't exactly what you might call under my control."

Nick ran his hands through his hair, and his eyes were intense. "What was last time?"

Deborah sighed. "I guess it was a dream. I woke up in bed, at least. But it wasn't like watching a movie or anything--it was more like she was leading me, guiding me. Showing me what she wanted me to see, she said."

"Sounds dangerous, letting her in your head like that."

Deborah shook her head quickly. "Nah. She doesn't want to hurt me. She warned me about Kate last time."

"Still, you be careful." Nick said authoritatively.

Deborah grinned rakishly. "Nick--since when have you been worried about me being able to take care of myself?"

"Whenever you're doing something I don't know about." Which, granted, hadn't been often in all the years they had spent together. They had grown up more like siblings than cousins.

"You don't do much stuff…like, Club stuff." Deborah said, trying to keep it unobtrusive.

Nick shot her an amused glance. "I don't, huh?"

"That night, that it was us and Cassie in Number Twelve…I mean, it's not like you can't do anything."

Nick snorted. "I can do stuff. I just don't see what the point is in doing much with it. How much do you use your…whatever?"

Deborah sighed. "Until this…not much. I guess my interests don't lie in that direction a lot. What am I gonna do, talk to the concrete?"

"Well, then I guess that's my point." Nick said. "I don't use it a lot in my daily life. I don't see a point in trying to if that's not who I am." Nick sighed and looked over at Deborah. "You guys think I'm dead since I stopped showing up for meetings?"

"Not dead. I just wish I knew what you were up to, more. You're still my cousin, Nick."

"Well, I guess I'll be sticking around for awhile. We'll hang out." He said. He sat silent for a minute. "You're not worried or anything, are you?"

"Me?" Deborah asked, the look she shot him slightly mocking. "Hell no. It's just like…everyone that left…they're all my people, you know?"

"Sorry I asked." Nick said, stretching. "Yeah, I know. Or I guess I'd know."

"Good." She said, a little hard. "Think about it some, huh?"

Nick's eyes became dark again. "I'm not moving back, Deb."

"Even if someone who was staying here asked you to?" Deborah asked, closing her hand on the amber and reaching a few inches down for the moonstone.

"Someone like who?" Nick asked, with a very slight quaver in his voice. Deborah grinned.

"Someone like Diana, maybe?"

"Yeah, well, we'll see about that one." Nick said. "I never figured on her being the right type for me."

Oh, as if _that_ wasn't an obvious lie, Deborah thought. "Don't think too much. It's not your strong suit." She recommended instead.

"Yeah, you know where you can put that." Nick said amiably in response.

"You ever think maybe you're too hard on yourself?" Deborah continued. Nick didn't look up. "I mean, I don't mean to be the major bitch tonight or anything; it just occurred to me. Diana came over tonight…would she have done that if you weren't the right type for her?"

"She does that for everyone. She's the leader of the coven."

"And yet she didn't. She came here."

"You know, sometimes underestimating what you can do keeps you from falling on your ass." Nick said, his voice edged with the beginnings of inner conflict.

"And sometimes it keeps you from knowing what it's like to fly. Courage, Nick. It's all the same thing."

Nick reached into the velvet-lined wooden box to pick up a yellowish-white cloudy stone, tumbled, about the size and shape of a small egg. Deborah's piece of citrine, her original working stone. When Nick held it in his hand, he felt like it was almost speaking to him in Deborah's voice, like it would say the same brash and blunt and clear things she would say, that held a sort of modern wisdom all their own. He tossed it to her, and she caught it in one hand.

"Courage, huh? And you would know all about that?" The question hinting two ways--at her experience with courage and her own lack of a love life.

"All that I need to know." Deborah replied, neatly summing up the both of them.

Nick sighed, bloody but unbowed. "Well, whatever. I'm tired." They had switched off turns in the bathroom earlier, so Nick just took his blanket and pillow, wrapped the one around him and punched the other, and laid down next to his daughter. On the small couch they had moved into the room, Deborah put her own pillow down on the cushions, first closing her box of gems and then putting the moonstone and amber beneath where her head would rest. Thinking uneasily about what things she might see once her eyes were closed, she eventually drifted off to sleep.

The dream didn't start in a scary manner. Cassie had described her dreams of mainly taking place in the garden and house of Number Twelve, so that was where Deborah sort of half-hoped half-expected she'd end up. She recognized the steep, narrow staircase that she seemed to be in, but her eyes didn't move up or down at any particular rate, as if she were seeing through another person's eyes. It was more like her eyes were a camera, focusing in on this one area, and she knew the area had to be because she could identify the girls. One of them was Jacinth, and as to the other, there was no explanation but for her to be Jacinth's sister.

The girls could have been twins, though one was older than the other. But both had the wavy golden-brown hair and the wildflower blue eyes, the graceful bones and the willowy shift of the head and neck. Their hair was covered, of course, and though Deborah couldn't be certain in the darkness of the stairwell, she almost thought the older sister's hair was more of a brownish color. Still slightly curled, however.

"Good morrow, Miriam." Jacinth said, as she passed the other girl on the stair.

"Good morrow, Jacinth." Miriam said, in a tinkling, bell-like voice. Deborah had to fight the instinct to love her on-sight, had to try to remain neutral…she seemed to have some delicacy about her that drew people to her.

Jacinth was on her way downstairs, with a book. It had a red leather cover, and it was probably Cassie's hereditary Book of Shadows. "How has Kate been keeping?" Miriam asked, as Jacinth passed. Jacinth's face immediately became sadder and dark.

"As well as can be expected, I fear."

Miriam nodded solemnly. "Will she be coming over today?"

"No." Jacinth said in half a whisper. "Our good mother does not make her feel welcome. I will go to seek her out."

"Be her strength." Miriam said, laying a hand on Jacinth's arm. "It is the right thing to do."

"I fear in the future others may do her wrongly." Jacinth said, the corners of her lips turning down in anger. Miriam sighed.

"If they do, there is little you can do to stop them. Just be her friend and help her." The older girl said.

"I do what I can. But I cannot promise the world and stars." Jacinth said, firmly practical.

"Even half that…" Miriam said, playing off Jacinth's words but also at the same time quite serious. Now Deborah was worried. What had happened to Kate that had Jacinth and Miriam so upset? They weren't crying or anything, so obviously it had happened awhile ago…but what could make Jacinth's mother upset around Kate? Jacinth and Kate had grown up together, after all. This must be what had turned them enemies.

Then the scene shifted as seems to happen often in dreams. This time the focus was on Kate, and Deborah was enthralled. She would have thought the woman sitting against the birch tree was Diana, with her silvery-gold hair, until she lifted her head. Her eyes were as golden as Faye's, and still retained in them some sort of innate predator look, like the eyes of a hunting cat or falcon. She was sitting on the ground, her knees drawn up to her side and tucked inside her skirt. On her lap she held a Book of Shadows, one with a brown letter cover. She was writing something in it, with a quill and inkwell.

__

A Talisman for Strength

Take a smooth and shapely rock, and upon one face carve the rising sun and a crescent moon, horns up. Upon the reverse, the words:

Strength of stone,

Be in my bone,

Power of light,

Sustain my fight.

What would a teenage girl need to be strong about, need an actual talisman for strength, for? Kate couldn't be any older than eighteen or so. Deborah had a feeling that whatever Kate needed to be strong about was the same thing that had caused Jacinth's mother to not feel comfortable with Kate in the house. And then Deborah had a sudden yammering prediction in her bones that told her she didn't want to know--not really.

Deborah woke up a few seconds later in the bedroom she was sharing with Nick tonight, to be with Ashley, to the same bright glow as had woken her up a couple weeks ago. Jacinth was in the room, standing by Ashley, over the bed. Neither Nick nor Ashley seemed to notice, at least not enough to wake up. Deborah sat up and stretched, and nodded at Jacinth.

"Hello."

"Hello, Guardian." Jacinth said, with a smile playing about her lips. "Your cousin is most beautiful."

"Yeah, she's pretty cute." Deborah said, looking down at Ashley. "She's a brave little girl."

"Not surprising. There is much courage in her blood." Jacinth said, and knelt down to touch the little girl's forehead. Ashley stirred a little and smiled in her sleep, and stuck her thumb in her mouth. Deborah got a little uneasy with this, and Jacinth noticed it.

"I mean her no harm, Deborah. Can't you trust me?" She asked, something in the voice sorrowful.

"I wonder." Deborah said. "Nick doesn't."

Jacinth dismissed this with a wave of her hand. "Nick is a man, with all the problems of short-sightedness and passion that brings. I don't care about him. You're the one that has to trust me, Deborah, if you are to be able to help them in any way at all."

"Have you come to warn me again, then?" Deborah said. "Is something going to happen?"

Jacinth stared off into the distance beyond Deborah's shoulder. "No, not for awhile yet. A neutralizing element must be overcome, for Kate to again make her claim somewhat valid. She has a very direct enemy that will soon live here, a child that she will dearly want yet be completely unable to touch. This will weaken her."

"Who is it the child of?" Deborah asked, her heart beating faster. Jacinth's smile grew even more enigmatic.

"That of Diana and your cousin, in a way. You'll be seeing a lot of him, and Joy."

Deborah sighed. "So they'll stay close to me?"

Jacinth nodded slowly. "Such an arrangement is not a problem. Many guardians have used spells and witchwork to keep their charges in their area."

"I thought you and I were the only ones?" Deborah asked, with a confused look. "Because you were in the settler's time, and I'm here now…"

"As the protector of children? No. Quite to the contrary. You come from a very long and esteemed tradition. But that is a story for another to tell you, in its time."

"Well, what _can _you tell me, before our time runs out again?" Deborah said a touch aggressively, remembering last time and how if only she had had a little more information, maybe…

"What do you want to know?" Deborah threw up her arms in exasperation.

"I don't _know_ what I want to know! I don't know anything yet! None of these histories or stories are in the old books--"

"Oh, they are." Jacinth broke in. "If you know where to look."

"Stop being mysterious. It's really starting to piss me off." Deborah said. "Do you mean the books of shadows I saw in the dream? Diana's?" She asked, and then stopped in surprise, had not known she could recognize the book just by a glance at the cover and at a spell inside. She continued, a bit quieter. "Is that where I need to look?"

"It wouldn't hurt." Jacinth said, a touch darkly. Deborah shook her head.

"But I've read those. There aren't any histories in them--all I saw was Kate writing a spell for strength in hers. What would she need to be strong for?"

Jacinth went strangely silent, in a way that seemed to spread throughout her entire form, not just her lips.

"When Kate was fairly young, she was attacked by a monstrous dark thing." Jacinth said, clasping her hands in front of her, her voice almost seeming to break from the sorrow. "It left her a torn and broken person; it made the entire coven suspect her of treachery, and it also left her with child. When the child was born, it was taken away, both for his and Kate's own safety."

Deborah was incensed. "That's horrible!" To think of being violated by that, something that Jacinth wouldn't even classify as a person… and then bearing a child of it. Her people, the only people she had ever known, distrusting her forever afterward and taking the child away…

"I quite agree." Jacinth said and her face made it plain she did, even if the emotion seemed to evolve hesitantly. "Her life was a living hell from that point on…you understand why she needed a talisman of strength. However, the method she chose to relieve the pain was not something the rest of the coven agreed with." And here she stopped briefly, as if decided what she could and could not tell. Just before Deborah would have spurred her onward with protest, Jacinth spoke again. "She turned to love."

"To love?" Deborah asked, surprised, given Kate's actions of late. "What's wrong with that?"

And Jacinth's eyes closed briefly. "She chose to love another woman's man."

********************

"It always surprises me how much they manage to get wrong." Diana murmured to herself as she sat sifting through the latest batch of letters sent by the Christian Coalition, the Moral Majority and their many parables and cousins, rerouted to her from the Wiccan and Pagan Free Speech Agency. "I mean, is there a booth somewhere in New England that says 'The Wicked Witch once lived here; misinformation given out daily?'" She supposed she really ought not to be surprised by this, after five years of it, but then a _little_ innocence had always been part in parcel with purity, through the ages.

It had been her idea, after the coven had finally come into their power with the Master Tools after fighting Black John ten years ago, to improve relations with outsiders. The problem with this was that outsiders didn't want to tell you what to do to improve relations with them, and short of pinning them up against a wall, a move that was pretty contradictory to the mission, the most difficult part of the process was finding out. Which was why after college, when she found that historical education didn't take as much time out of her life as she thought it would, she had taken up this mantle. Not only did it give her the opportunity to hopefully spread some understanding, it gave her ideas about where to start in her own town.

Following the divorce, Diana had moved back into number one. The house had always held a comforting presence for her, a golden feeling of security that had made her feel as if she were floating in a cushion of light, even in her darkest hours. She had once more gotten used to the fact that the hot water for showers didn't last as long…and anyway, nowadays she more preferred baths.

For what must have been the fifth time that day, Diana rested her hand on her abdomen, and wondered what the baby inside would look like. Blond hair, certainly; because Faye's father had black hair-so her own father had said. And anyway, blond was dominant over black, right? Well, she wouldn't mind, either way. Some sort of hair color, with wide, clear, eyes. Blue, like Chris, or green, like her own? Short and wiry, or tall and slender? Maybe even a more full figure, like Faye--they were cousins, after all. The genes that had produced them were practically twins. But that would mean a girl…what if it was a boy, like Joy?

Diana sighed, for now unable to concentrate on the bigotry of the religious right. She went into the living room, and plugged in the two pairs of headphones she had gotten. Slipping in her CD soundtrack of Fantasia, she settled one pair on her head and the other pair on her stomach, and relaxed on the couch. She closed her eyes, letting the light from the bay window white out the blackness behind her eyelids, and floated in a sea of white. She started picturing a cartoon-blue sky with fluffy clouds, little pegasi galloping around, eating the grass and tumbling as they learned to fly. She smiled, and then began to laugh inside as two of the little colts ran head-on into each other, falling into a heap of awkward legs.

The inward laugh became an outward chuckle, and jolted her out of her trance. She came back slowly, opening her eyes just in time to catch a blue SUV pulling into her driveway, a car she had never seen on Crowhaven Road before. Her memory flashed back to the day that a station wagon had pulled up to number twelve and carried Cassie away, for terrorizing and attempted torture. But what could anyone want from her, Diana, now?

Diana went and picked up the cell phone, speed-dialing Laurel's number, her finger hovering just over the send button, just in case. Diana waited by the large bay window in front for the driver to come out and around to the street side of the house, if it was in fact their destination, but whoever it was skirted notice by leaving via the side door of the van, and coming around back. Diana sat quietly, almost as if waiting for suspicious sounds. Feet on the gravel path; that was all. Then, a knock on the back kitchen door, the one that led to the backyard.

Diana gathered herself up from the couch. She took her time about getting there. Served them right for coming unannounced. She cracked the curtains just a tiny bit--and was shocked at what she saw. _What in the God's name..._Diana thought. She opened the door to a very scared and furtive looking Sally Jeffries.

"Diana." Sally said, barging in without any more invitation than a shocked glance, "you've got to help me." Diana nodded and stared. Sally went back out, and when she came back into the kitchen, had a baby carrier in tow, as well as a folder, which she set on the kitchen table as she motioned for Diana to sit. A little shocked and little more dumbfounded, Diana obeyed. She forgot for the moment the twinge of pride that was trying to attack her for letting Sally walk all over her. She gently chided herself for even feeling that. Obviously Sally had worse problems than she did at the moment, coming up to someone she had barely known and even partially been rivals with ten years ago, for help.

Up until that moment, Sally's attitude had been entirely brisk, business-like and professional. But as soon as she set the baby carrier down on the table, she burst into tears. Diana pulled out a seat beside her, and put an arm on the woman's shoulder. Sally shrugged it off, retreating into her own solitude.

"I..." Sally started, before she sniffed and tears began, once again, rolling down her face. Inside the carrier, the baby began to fuss. Diana couldn't even see his face, because a blanket was draped over the handle. Diana sighed. She glanced at Sally for permission, and Sally nodded. Diana took the blanket off of the handle, and gathered the baby in her arms, started bouncing him. The baby stopped fussing, and when Diana stopped bouncing him, didn't even then start crying. The child actually seemed entranced by Diana's face, staring into the green eyes with unabashed fascination. Diana smiled and touched him on the nose, and then the child averted his eyes.

During this whole procedure, Sally's eyes had gone from tear-filled to a little more calm, with help from a box of tissues on the table. Now Sally was attentively watching Diana with the baby, with the face of someone who is watching their beloved be entranced by the enemy. But it wasn't a face of hate and jealousy…it was more a face of incomprehensible longing. Sally reached out a hand to the child in the carrier, and the baby grabbed a finger, for a short while, before dropping it almost in disdain. Sally blinked quickly a few times, and moved to sit back in the chair again, looking at Diana.

"Now." Diana said, a little unsteadily of what would be proper to say after this whole interlude. Did Sally feel uncomfortable around her own child? What could this mean? "How about you tell me why you brought your son all the way up to the headland? Not to mention that I haven't seen you in ten years." Sally took a deep, composure gaining breath, looking down at the table.

"I came because I need your help." Sally said, and obviously that one sentence had cost her a lot to say. Slowly, she lifted her chin and her brown eyes met the emerald-green. There was a determination in her gaze. The look said that Sally was perfectly fine at being independent and self-sufficient, and if Diana couldn't help her, she would just go elsewhere, no matter how difficult it was. "I mean, we do. The both of us…we need your help."

"What sort of help?" Diana asked, a little cautiously. "Is he sick?" she asked haltingly, looking at the baby's relatively cheerful face.

"No." Sally said, a little darkly. "Nothing like that." She laughed bitterly. "This is going to sound weird no matter what, so I guess I'd just better say it already…but it's so damn hard." Sally looked out of the ocean-facing window as if she'd like to drown in it. "Diana, I...trust you." She started off. Sally started drumming her fingers on the table, and the drumming sped up as her speech went on. "As weird as the whole thing got with...with the principal, I always…would have trusted you, you know?" Sally sighed and attempted to explain, very basically. "I mean, witch or not, you always seemed like the kind of person who could…who would want to…take care of everybody."

"I try." Diana said softly. Sally looked up, startled.

"Well…then I guess that's it." Sally said haltingly, looking back down. "I need you to take care...of him. Of my son."

"Take care of him?" Diana asked. Sally nodded towards the baby Diana had held, and Diana's face approached a semblance of shock. Somehow, instinctively divining the space between the words, she knew Sally didn't mean like a baby-sitter. She meant for good, for years, maybe for life.

"He's..." Sally said, pausing, reluctant to finish the sentence. "Oh, Diana, he's a witch, I know it." She finished, all in a rush and looking at her hands, as if she knew what she had said was something unmentionable, and shameful.

"Sally…he's a baby. There's no way he could have decided to be a witch yet. He has no idea what the word means. It's not something you're born…witches are not a separate species. It's something you become, a choice you make." Diana said slowly, solemnly, trying to will Sally to get the import of the words.

"Yeah, right. Sure." Sally said, blowing her nose again and wiping away another tear with the back of her hand. "That's bull and you know it, Diana. If that were true, why were only kids from Crowhaven Road in the club, huh? Because you're the descendants of people that…were different. And he's just like all of you. He's different." Sally said, gesturing towards the baby. "He's so different from…from a _normal _person, that I don't know what to _do_ with him anymore."

Diana hesitated. True, in a way, for exactly the reasons she had named, Sally was right…at least partially. But that wasn't the sort of thing you told a mother who was trying to abandon her baby. And yet, Diana wasn't even sure that staying with Sally would be the best thing for him. Sally didn't even seem to want to take care of him. Diana looked at the hapless individual in the carrier, who had no idea that the rest of his life was being decided, for better or for worse.

And Diana couldn't offer Sally any advice for caring for a baby that could call on the Powers, because Diana herself had no experience. Her father had never talked about anything relating to magic, ever. But witchcraft scared Sally, that Diana was sure of. The parents of the children on Crowhaven road might have been scared of the power of their children, but they were at least familiar with it, to an extent. Could a parent care for a child that was both fearful and unfamiliar to them? Not well, certainly. Not in the way every child deserved. "What makes you think I can, either?" Diana asked gently. 

"Because." Sally said. "I trust you; I told you so. I mean, you always seemed so...good. So nice and helpful and...just good. And I couldn't let some adoption agency take him. He--God, this sounds so bad, but he needs to be with his own kind. Some family who just wants a normal baby--they couldn't handle him." Diana was almost afraid to ask, Sally seemed so scared.

"What...does he do?" Diana asked, hating the words and knowing it was a cliché question. But if she going to take Sally's plea at all seriously, she had to know. And, as strange as it seemed, as against the common morality as it probably was, her inner senses were telling her to think about it. To do it carefully, do it slowly, but still, to actually carefully consider it…

"He...it's water. I've seen him...do things. I give him baths in the sink, and immediately, the water changes, the temperature. Boiling or ice cold, as soon as he touches it, it changes. And it never makes him cry, no matter the temperature of the water. He's never gotten a burn from it, ever. He makes whirlpools, little waves in the water. Not by moving around or anything; they're just kinda there. In the nursery, all of the pipes burst, so his ceiling is leaking in four places. Every time the plumber fixes it, it breaks again. In rainstorms, no mater how I latch the window, it always opens. And he screams at candles, lit matches, whatever. Any fire. I...Diana, I can't take care of him. You were the only one I could think of."

Diana looked at the child in the carrier, who looked perfectly innocent, if a little more comprehensive than normal for that age. From what she had heard, children that were between the ages of baby and toddler were easily distractible…not this one. He had a concentration he used on everything.

"How old is he?" Diana asked.

"Thirteen months." Sally replied, and had the slight biting satisfaction of seeing Diana look more than a little surprised. "I know, he looks pretty big for his age. Pretty smart, too." But the sentence was bereft of the smallest vestige of motherly pride. Yes, it definitely sounded as if Sally were scared of her own child. "So I need him to go somewhere. To be able to live somewhere, where he won't be hurt because he's different. Somewhere where he can actually be…kind of the same."

Diana took the baby into her arms again, looked at his face.

It was an innocent enough face. Silvery-brown hair, in gentle curls, came down almost to his eyes. His skin was pale and pink as cherry blossoms, and his ocean-blue eyes were wide and open. So tender, those eyes. So large, so vulnerable.

"Would it be forever?" Diana asked, a question that was half a question and half a probe into Sally's mind and emotions. Would Sally want him back, was what Diana was wondering. Two, five, ten years later, would Sally come back and say she had done this idiotic thing, and demand the child back? It was like adopting a child from a birth mother. This arrangement had the potential to shatter the fragile peace between the witches and outsiders she was trying to forge. She had to know Sally wouldn't try.

"I don't know." Sally said. "I can't know. Perhaps...if I moved, someday. Somewhere. If I were in a safe place, if I had no other children, if people would understand…but I can't, now. And it would be cruel, if he were raised with you, to take him away." Sally clenched her hands around each other, the knuckles turning white.

Diana replaced the child in the carrier, and he raised his arms as if asking her not to put him back. She rose from the table, started walking around the kitchen. She could feel Sally's eyes on her like iron chains around her ankles. But for God's sake, he was a _child_. Sally's child. How could they even pretend that this was okay, that this was normal? If Sally let him stay here…if Diana cared for him for years, he would become like her son, like her own child. A brother to the child she carried now. This was not just a little arrangement. But would not agreeing to do it make her any better a person?

"What would I tell him?" Diana asked. Sally's breath caught.

"You wouldn't have to tell him anything." Sally said. "If you didn't want to, I mean. Make it up, tell him the truth, I don't care. Just…raise him right, like I can't. Care for him. Help him."

"Will everyone think he's gone missing, then? Dead?" Diana asked, the tone only slightly punishing. "This can't be legal."

"It can. I have legal custody of him, and I'm giving it to you." Sally plucked a sheaf of papers out of the folder she had carried with her into the house. "It's adoption. The same thing a relative would have to have if the parents die, or something, without that decided. It's…I got it stamped. It's approved. All you need to do is sign a couple times."

"How did you…?" Diana asked, looking over the paper, her eyes wide. It should have taken months to get this kind of thing approved, months in which Diana and Sally would have been working together and talking to counselors and discussing the necessary issues.

"It helps to have friends at the governor's office." Sally said, a little wryly, with the tons of depression in her voice coming through.

"What about his birth certificate, then? Social security?" Diana asked. She kept her eyes down on the table, couldn't get absorbed in the naked pleading of Sally's proposal. Sally took those out of the folder and handed them over, and Diana studied them.

"Kaelin Jeffries." Diana repeated, reading off the sheet. Born January 29th. An Aquarius.

"I'll need baby things." Diana said. "I haven't bought anything like that, yet." After all, she couldn't expect Sally to know that they hadn't even had a baby shower or anything, with this whole issue weighing down over their heads.

"I'll bring his stuff up." Sally said, uneagerly. "I have it all in the trunk."

Everything Sally had for him, clothes, diapers, food, toys, they carried upstairs to an ocean-facing room of Diana's house. She would have to call Deborah, too. There would undoubtedly be details to iron out somehow. And she had already decided to tell him. A child can't live with such a secret, shouldn't have to.

Sally stopped, just before leaving via the kitchen door. "Can...I, just hold him, one last time?" she asked. Diana looked at Sally carefully, a measuring glance, up and down.

"He's your son." Diana said. She held him out to his mother, who took him gently, as if scared to break him. There were no tears in her eyes anymore. Sally looked as if she were doing something regrettable, but necessary.

"No." Sally said, holding him mournfully to her chest. "Now, he's yours." And handed him over, with one last kiss, and walked out. Diana took Kaelin, who wasn't crying in the slightest, hadn't seemed to bond to his natural mother at all. She waited until she heard the van pulling out of the driveway and down the street, until she could no longer see it on the road, before taking him around and letting him see the house.

"What am I going to do with you?" Diana asked him, as she held him up. The baby stared at her with those same wide open eyes…clearly he had no ideas to offer.

"Oh, well." Diana said, cuddling him to her once again. "I suppose we'll have to figure it out together, huh?" Kaelin giggled, and Diana smiled in response. "But maybe we'll have a little help." And she cleared Laurel's number off the cell phone to call Nick.


End file.
